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GRACIA 

A SOCIAL TRAGEDY 



BY 



Frank Everett Plummer 



ILLUSTRATIONS DESIGNED BY THE AUTHOR 

FRANK WOLCOT WEBSTER. Artist 



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CHICAGO 
CHARLES H. KERR cff COMPANY 

MCM 



TWO COPIES RKCEIVBO, 

Library of Congrei% 
Offlco of tho 

Beg(«t»r of Copyrlghti^ 



T5 3?31 



51080 

COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY 
CHARLES H. KERR & COMPANY 



SECOND COPY, 

fe Off. <i .'<i 1) , 



PROLOGUE. 

"What the poet writes, 
He writes. Mankind accepts it if it suits, 
And that's success; if not, the poem's passed 
From hand to hand, and yet from hand to hand 
Until the unborn snatch it, crying out 
In pity on their fathers' being so dull. 
And that's success, too." 

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



SYNOPSIS. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. "I'll lift the curtain from my past, 

And show the ugly wreck strewn by the way !" ii 

II. " But let me first the happy part relate — " 13 

III. "In autumn time 

Would hunters come, " 20 

IV. " 'Wilt house him here and nurse? 

He may recover yet. ' " 23 

V. "His nurse in sickness, I became his guide 

In health." 25 

VI. "I gave myself to him — " 30 

VII. " 'Twas then I knew the truth 

So lately feared, — he had deserted me !" 34 

VIII. "He cursed me then, and bade me never seek 

For aid from him, nor see him evermore." 36 

IX, "Through the night I fled, 

Ne'er to return, " 39 

X. "My babe's first cry awoke the mother-love. " 42 

XI. "Then on the darkest, saddest day, — 

The dreariest of all the wearisome 
And heavy-laden days, — my baby dies!" 46 

XII. "I contemplated suicide and death." 52 

XIII. "I sought to turn my wasting energies 

Toward frail humanity's relief;" 54 

XIV. "I could not front such fateful, fearful odds;" 60 



SYNOPSIS. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XV. "I wrote him once 

He met 

My prayer with silence. " 62 

XVI. "I resolve 

Revenge on him — a woman's deep revenge." 65 

XVII. "And resolutely set my face to seek 

The distant city by the ocean's marge;" 68 

XVIII. "My youthful lover, whom I knew before 

I met the man whose life absorbed mine own, 
Came with his messages of love and life ; — ' ' 70 

XIX. "I chose the path that wicked women take." 72 

XX. "Oft homeward ranged my thoughts." 83 

XXI. "I saw a rich and costly equipage. 

Upon the cushioned seat, in easy pose, 

He lounged, — the man I sought!" 89 

XXII. "Returning late from ball or banquet board, 

In passing where I dwelt, he sought me out." 92 

XXIII. " 'Oh, come, come with me!' " 95 

XXIV. "Nay, love from love accepts naught that is base; 

Nor can love give love aught but what is pure." 106 

XXV. "Above his heart gleamed bright my dagger's hilt. 

Reflected redly in the bloody stream." 113 

XXVI. " 'Guilty as charged' ; 

The jury found. 'For life!' the Judge decreed." 120 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1. My Happy Childhood Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

2. "Oh, how can I recount my wicked life?" ii 

3. ' 'But wept with white-drawn face and breaking heart. " 36 

4. "I watched the child with mother-loving eyes. " 44 

5. "Oft, oft I left my troubled bed. 
And used, as devotees their rosaries 

Enumerate, to count my losses o'er." 66 

6. "That day I purchased of a hunchbacked Jew 
With harlot gold (few question whence gold comes), 
A knife of such rare temper, such rich hilt, 

It might have hung in some old Sultan's belt;" 90 

7. "That night I stood within my room alone, 
Before the glass, with all my jewels on. 

In toilette perfect, radiant, complete;" 92 

8. "Ye cold, grim prison walls, bedewed with tears, 

Take me and close me round until I die. ' ' 124 




'Oh, hoiK.' can 1 iccoiinl viy icickcd life .'' 




^:^\ 



Gracia: A Social Tragedy. 

**So here's the tale from beginning to end, my friend." 

— Browning. 

I 

SWEET sister, you have lived a holy life, 
A life devoted to angelic deeds, — 
The hallowed sanction of your God is yours — 
Unselfish, and unspotted from the world ; 
Your soul is placid as a mountain lake, 
Where white swans bathe their plumage ; your fair 

life, 
One lingering summer day, unmarred by cloud 
Or storm. How your pure heart will chill to feel 
The grief and utter woe I now relate ! 
Oh, how can I recount my wicked life 
To you, or show the fabric woven here 
Upon the loom of time — its warp and woof 
Compact of weakness, woefulness, and crime ; — 
Illumined once with love, then darkened, save 
For lurid light of hate and wild revenge? 

II 



12 GRACIA. 

But set the screen before the candle that 
Its light fall not upon my shrinking face. 
Pay strictest heed, for I would have you tell 
This tale in such strong, turgid phrase that some 
Young soul may haply heed and be restrained 
From entering on sure ruin's dreadful road; 
Speak burning words that may arrest the ear, 
Enchain the thought, and lead weak steps aright. 

And should but one young spirit list, and heed, 
And thus avoid my awful course, and gain 
The strength that will endure when trial comes,— 
For this I'll lift the curtain from my past, 
And show the ugly wreck strewn by the way ! 



GRACIA. 13 



II 



I SHUDDER, and grow sick with wan despair, 
When with reluctant steps, life's pathway o'er. 
At memory's beck, I tread. The forms recalled, 
The tones of love, my mother's sad, pale face, 
My father's curse, my sins and tragedies, — 
These make the shadows black as night and death ; 
Nay, tear away the remnant of that hope 
Which ever bade me gaze up toward the skies 
To greet the morning star. 

Oh, heed my cry, 
You who have heard so many tales of woe, 
And ope your heart in pity for my lot — 
Condemned to this cold prison cell for life. 

But let me first the happy part relate — 
My early life and home and youthful joys. 
My sinless self ere doomed by blighting curse — 
As it reveals itself to me at night 



14 GRACIA. 

When Sleep, the merciful, envelops all 

In mantle of f orgetf ulness ; nay, wafts 

Me back to childhood, and to childhood's ways 

Of purest innocence, — brief respite from 

My weight of woe. 

Would God that healing sleep 
Might ceaseless prove ; for in its dreams I live 
And love my happy girlhood o'er again. 

And oft I dream : — 

I seem to be in some 
Vast deep — aye, more, an awful, lower deep — 
From whence is no escape — entombed, to dwell 
Perpetually in darkness and despair! — 
But e'en as flowers, when trampled to the earth. 
Lift up to heaven their crushed and drooping heads, 
So upward turns my gaze ; when lo ! there bursts 
Upon my startled sense a vision fair: — 
I see my home — the home where I was born 
And grew to womanhood — far floating like 
Enchanted cloud athwart the sky astray. 
I see the orchard, where the birds burst forth 
In song, and buds unfold to fullest bloom ; 
I see the porch, vine-covered ; and tall trees 
Whose branches wave a greeting to the sky; 
Huge granite crags, whose battered, beetling brows 
Are draped with tangled mass of foliage 



GRACIA. 15 

Like ivy 'broidery on castle walls; 
Secluded lakes, whose waters, crystal-clear. 
Are margined with a fringe of grass and reeds. 
The brook still murmurs 'neath its tangled banks 
Where blushing berries ripen in the sun ; 
Afar, and all around, stretch grass or grain 
That waves, and runs like billows on the sea ; — 
And, like the shores that stay the sea's advance. 
Low foot-hills and high-lifting mountains bid 
The rolling prairies cease their onward sweep. 
Both Love and Peace smile benedictions there ! 
The scene is near akin to heaven's hope — 
The meadowland of fair futurity. 

A little girl plays there upon the lawn — 
Then goes to school, and learns to con the books; 
To touch the canvas with a magic brush ; 
To voice the melody of woodland birds. 
She makes acquaintance with the printed page 
Where lie the wisdom-breeding thoughts of men 
Long dead, but greater than their progeny. 
Thus were the fleeting days of childhood spent; — 
The bud became the flower of womanhood- 
She early learns love-lessons from a youth 
Whose after-life, though cursed by her misstep, 
Proves true and noble — worthiest Knight of all ! 
So childhood's joys and griefs pass with the 
days. 



i6 GRACIA. 

A tender father listens for her step : 

He lifts her to his knee, and, talking-, molds 

His thought to suit her young years' innocence. 

He lists to questions deeper than they seem ; 

But offers little warning of the thorns 

In life's long path, and sounds no note save love. 

'Twere better he had taught this trusting soul 

Distrust ; had taught to know, thus to avoid, 

The bitter truths life's troubles hold in store! 

The mother takes the child and smoothes her hair 
And straightens out her dress and kisses her, 
And with a smile dismisses her to play ; 
With warning word restrains the restless feet, 
And breathes a blessing on the heedless head. 

O tender mother-face ! A Raphael 
Might envy it. To paint it, painter must 
Have dipped his pencil in the fount of light: 
The sculptor who would fix that face in stone 
Would need the chisel that had carved the Christ. 

My heart yearns upward to that Paradise ; — 
A Paradise whose gates seem closed to me. 

How fair that sacred scene ! It seems to my 
Poor heart and weary mind like mellow shine 
Of after-glow from sun but lately set ; 



GRACIA. 17 

Or like delightful peace as is ascribed 
To famed Elysian fields — a lotus-land 
Where Sorrow never comes ! 

Thus peacefully 
The happy years speed on. The girl that was, 
Is woman now and fair. With graceful step 
She moves about, as moves a stately queen, 
And wears a lily wreath without a stain. 
A star-beam is not purer than her life. 
Respect, Esteem, and Love walk with her there 
Through all the happy days; and Reverence 
Comes oft to lay his hand upon her head: — 
Such matchless majesty has innocence ; 
Such priceless crowning and fine blamelessness. 

What flawless gem — a life devoid of wrong! 
Like hue of lily, dew at dawn, or light 
Of angel face, that life was wholly fair. 

O childhood years! Sweet infancy, fair heaven, 
Ye surely are akin ! These thoughts awake 
Pure dreams which I had deemed as dead ! Yet who 
Forgets the days of youth's light-heartedness, — 
That halcyon time when we were wont to tread 
Untried, enchanted ways? How fair and bright 
The future seemed when Hope was young — when all 
The world was new ! Alas, the joys of youth 



i8 GRACIA. 

Evanish like the gleams of Northern lights! 
This vision fades as in the storm-swept sky 
A rainbow dims and dies, yet soothing night 
Brings it again to charm, until the pale, 
Cold light of morning, colorless, reveals 
My dreary cell ; reveals the blackened page — 
That blighting curse that drags my soul to hell ! 

There is a hell, if but remembrances 
Of base, unworthy, and unholy deeds! 



Why am I here? With earnest, prayerful heart, 

But gaze you on the picture of my life — 

A sad-red lurid glare of sin and shame, 

A living proof that e'en the angels fell; — 

Then pray your God no other ever feel 

Or know the curse of blighted hopes thrust thus 

Upon my soul! 'Tis true, I sinned, we erred; 

Or is it sin to err — sin to give way 

Where nature is too weak to stand the strain? 

How can a thing be other than itself — 

A bow be stronger than its timber's strength? 

But still my heart holds dear an image — aye, 

'Tis heaven's own ! — a tie that binds me yet 

To him, to earth, and heaven's high estate. 

And while I ope my heart to you, oh, pray 

That your dear God will let me rest, at least. 



GRACIA. 19 

Beside the gates of Paradise e'en though 

The barrier intervenes eternally! 

'Twere heaven enough to feel him near; to know 

He holds the precious fruitage of our sin 

Toward me with eager, outstretched, loving arms ! 

List on, and you shall all my sorrows know. 



GRACIA. 



Ill 



1 WISHED for naught that love and money could 
Provide. An only child, my every whim 

Was heeded. Fortune smiled on mine and me. 
Wide o'er the windy stretches of the West 
My father's cattle herds were wont to graze. 
'Twas these, and mines, and lumber lands that 

formed 
His source of plenteous wealth. What wonder then 
That my intense desire for classic lore, 
Fine arts, and music's melting subtleties, 
Should be most generously gratified. 
E'en though our home was far removed from those 
Great centers of refinement and advance? 
With riches one o'er-rides opposing fronts. 

No nymph or satyr, faun or siren fair, 
Or Celtic elf, or troll of far North-land, 
Inhabited the hills and wood-grounds near 
Our home. No need of sprites or spirits vague 



GRACIA. 2 

Of olden time or other lands to hold 

High carnival or council wise, by stream 

Or ledged height of my far Western home. 

No need of ancient myth to add a charm 

To that romantic spot. The whole bright land 

Was full of life and light. The very sky, 

Sun-filled and sapphire-blue, seemed constantly, 

Like wood and stream, to harbor life; and clouds 

Would hang so white and motionless above 

The towering peaks, we thought them angels sent 

To join us in our happy wanderings! 

How daintily was gray of dawn transformed ! 

How gloriously the floods of midday light 

Bronzed, bright and new, the wrinkled face of 

Earth! 
How stealthily the light at sunset-time 
Crept up the distant hills, and in its wake 
Left soft but deepening shadows that o'erflowed 
Both hill and dale, and soothed the land to sleep! 
What charm of silences enchants the house, 
Relieved by song of bird and whispering rill ! 
What wild, tumultuous boom of maddened brook ! 
The scream of eagle blent with thunder's crash, — 
As, strong on noble pinions, swift he winged 
His airy flight among the lofty crags, 
In battle thus with wet and wind of storm 
In suddenness let loose, — still lingers bright 
In memory, and stirs my sluggish thoughts ! 



22 GRACIA. 

Oh, those were gladsome, glorious scenes, and there 
I lived enshrined in Nature's inner heart! 

No spot was more a hunters' Paradise ; 

For game ran wild upon the wooded hills, 

Or shelter sought in mountain fastness deep. 

The whirring pheasant and the rabbit shy. 

The deer and bear and game of wilder mood. 

Afforded sportsmen ample scope to test 

Their skill or courage ; whilst in clear, cold streams 

Elusive fish would swim, disport, and thrive. 

To challenge anglers' art. 

In Autumn time 
Would hunters come, and shoot and trap and snare ; 
Nor did they care how innocent the life. 
Or how destructive ; — panther, fierce and wild. 
Or wide-eyed, pleading fawn ; — they slaughtered all ! 



GRACIA. 



IV 



ONE day two woodsmen, carrying a man 
Upon a litter made from leafy boughs, 
Emerged with toilsome, careful steps from out 
The canyon's rocky hold, and sought our home 
For help for him they bore. They said: "This man 
Is hurt ; we found him in the woods beside 
A dying stag. Wilt house him here and nurse? 
He may recover yet." 

They brought him in. 
And bathed the cruel, lacerated wounds. 
And stopped their bleeding mouths; for he had 

poured 
His life-blood out like water on the ground, 
In battle fierce with forest's antlered king. 

Long, long he lay within the fever's grasp. 
Days into weeks had crept; weeks changed to 
months, 



24 GRACIA. 

And still the shadow, Death, above his couch, 
Hungrily hovered, yet withheld the dart. 

Far better he had died, — forgive my mood; — 

Far better I had died whilst yet a babe 

In mother-arms than e'er we twain had met! 

Though shy at first, I soon came with the rest. 
And took my place beside his couch to watch, 
And give the cooling drinks and opiates. 
Above a snow-white brow, curled raven locks ; 
His dark eyes, glowing with the fever's fire, 
Made startling contrast with his hueless cheeks. 
I knew, when health and strength returned, 
The man would be Adonis-like in look, 
As he was hero-like in form. 

Oh, that 
I might have seen the baser metal hid 
Beneath that polished front; — have known the dross 
Concealed from human eyes ! 

Health did return : 
The fever slowly cooled ; the pulses calmed ; 
The sense ceased wandering; the vacant mind 
Gave place to wakened soul. Death fled from him, 
And left my future curse — my fall, my woe ; 
O God, what dreadful, awful heritage ! 



GRACIA. 25 



HIS nurse in sickness, I became his guide 
In health. We hunted, fished, and read by 
turns. 
His days of convalescence in the fields 
And wood we passed. In dulcet tones he talked 
Of life beyond the limits of my hills ; 
Of city people and their pleasures gay ; 
And charmed with richest web of wonder- words, 
My fancies. Then my home and rural ways 
Grew dull and wearisome, and lost their charm. 
At his approach my heart would hush, intense 
As is the hush that ushers in the dawn. 
His easy ways, his fascinating speech, 
His manly look, were wizard spells to me. 
His very thought would speed my pulse. His touch 
Stirred, thrilled me with a captivating joy — 
O'erwhelmed me with love's finest tenderness. 
The rose and lily on my cheek would pale 
Or flame in unison with voice and tone. 



26 GRACIA. 

His love was as the warmth of tropic climes. 

The sweet imprisonment of his embrace 

Would set my pulses wild as storm-flung spray, 

Transfiguring my dormant soul to glad 

And vibrant music — liquid music like 

The mellow trill of gleeful meadow lark. 

What dormant worlds of rapture were aroused ! 

Glad heaven itself seemed opened to us twain ! 

My blood was liquid fire, so fierce it surged. 

I trembled with an inward thrill of bliss, — 

A bliss more wondrous, wanton-blind than love. 

The sensuous glow of warm delight so filled 

My being that my very soul grew faint. 

What fatal mastery had his warm caress ! 

How strong is love's delirium! My hopes. 

My plans, my dreams, my thoughts, myself, — all, all 

Were now absorbed in him. The river met 

The sea. 

Why tell you what he said? The sons 
Of God to Eve's fair daughters told the tale 
In infancy of Time ; and sons of men 
Have learned it but too well. 

How tenderly 
He forged the links of love's bright, golden chain 
About me ! His magnetic glances, sweet 
And winning words of adulation, soft. 
Warm kisses welling from his inner soul, 



GRACIA. 27 

My trusting heart to passionate response 
Aroused, — enwrapped me in love's silken mesh, — 
Until, all powerless, enraptured, I 
Gave eager listening to his loving words, 
And to the music of his soft appeals. 
My true affection strengthened into love, 
And earnest love became fierce passion's flame 
Unconsciously and uncontrollably, 
As holy thought becomes absorbing prayer. 
If love is holy, then the question holds — 
"Where, then, is blame? Where, where the wicked- 
ness?" 

The sculptor spake, and Galatea burst 

Her marble thralls; the stony statue changed 

To life — a woman fair, and all aglow 

With passion's warmth! Transfigured, thus, was I, 

My ravished senses thrilled with ecstasy! 

My cup of happiness was as complete 

As wine-glass brimmed with nectared essence that 

Exudes from ripened, luscious fruit of grape. 

Pearl-like and opal-pure, the bending sky 

Appeared. Ineffable delight that then 

Was mine! I thought, nay, knew, in heaven I 

dwelt ; — 
For oh, what matchless rapture is there like 
The pain of loving and of being loved? 
Alas! To misjudge self is but the dark, 



28 GRACIA. 

Prophetic shadow of vast, hastening woe ; — 
To misjudge others, — listen — you may learn! 

Dost know, my sister, that much happiness 

But blinds, as sun at full of noon? Dost know 

That sorrows dull the glass of life until 

Effulgent truth may be descried and known? 

This seeming paradox applies to all 

Of good and evil. Guilt is armored well 

And fortified, and ready for the charge ; 

Whilst Virtue's very innocence invites 

Attack, and knows not how to save till lost ! 

And so all noble attributes of life 

Fall prey to evil ones, as men of good 

Intent become the dupes of those whose base, 

Designing minds lead them to take undue 

Advantage. Selfishness doth rule supreme. 

And Discontent prevails where Peace should reign! 

But one brief year had sped since first he came. 
Again the purpling leaf and rod of gold 
Shed splendor o'er the hills. Within the vales. 
Late summer lingered, whilst soft, misty blues 
Spread gently like a creeping mystery. 
Above the fading forest, faint and far. 

Mid-afternoon, one languid, trance-like day, 
Found us among the hills with rod and gun. 



GRACIA. 29 

Yet pleasures of the chase but wearied soon, 
So all-absorbingly our love had grown 
And paramount, belittling all things else. 
Oh, joyous days of blissful idleness ! 

There was a cave close by, within a high 

And rocky cliff, once occupied and held 

By lawless men who plundered far and wide. 

And hid their booty there, tradition taught; 

Till, once, emboldened by the terror which 

Prevailed through all that country wide, they stole 

A maid and would have crowned her bandit queen 

But that the settlers, stirred to fury, rose 

And captured them and freed the maid, and drave 

The terror from that wild, romantic spot. 

We often rested there on summer eves. 

When he would weave from fragrant wild-wood 

flowers 
Bright wreaths with which to crown my youthful 

brow; 
Then, kneeling there before my mossy throne. 
With eyes which spoke the love he bore for me. 
Would call me "Sweet Titania," his "Queen," 
And vow to be my lover evermore. 



30 GRACIA. 



VI 

ONE dreamy day, through odorous forests old, 
Without intent or purpose, leisurely 
And free, we wandered to that hidden cave, 
And in the cooling shadows tarried long. 
And there, beside a bank of wilting flowers 
Which we had plucked in many a lonely dell, 
Whose dying fragrance, lotus-like, dulled all 
The brain and sense, I gave myself to him — 
My one, strong, wooing lover whom I loved ! 
And, as the helpless moth in circling round 
The ever-brilliant flame which draws it on, 
Finds but too late the death which lurks within 
The lode-star of its headlong, maddening flight, — 
So I, who loved this being of my thoughts, 
This fair conception of my girlhood dreams, — 
Kept swaying, rushing onward, in my flight 
Until, my senses dulled by maddening bliss, 
My maidenly reserve thrown to the winds, — 
Consuming fires of passion closed me round 



GRACIA. 31 

And held me fast, a plaything in its power. 
Thus, self-forgot, aye, all-forgot, I fell ! 

There came a storm that wept the whole night 

through, 
And wrestled, ghost-like, with the swaying trees: 
But I was happy ! Why should I believe 
The falling drops were heaven's grief- wrung 

tears? 
I think now of the cloud and storm that night, 
As Nature's pitying rebuke; I think 
The wind, by sorrow moved, wailed woe ; I think 
The drops that fell incessantly came from 
Sad, weeping eyes beyond the clouds, and were 
Not rain, but tears — tears wept for me. 

Oh, wild. 
Delirious after-days; ideal days 
When Love brought joy, and proffered all his 

sweets ! 
Ah, days so full of tremulous delights ! 
Such love as Psyche of all mortals found 
When Zephyr bore her far to Eros' realm — 
The God of Love, her lover evermore, — 
I felt for my fond lover, warm and bold: 
Such amorous rapture and sweet ravishment! 
Impassioned dream! 'Tis pity 'twould not stay! 
Ah, nothing stays but sorrow and despair ! 



32 GRACIA. 

No woman e'er was happier than I. 
Parisian ladies, whirling mazy waltz, 
Close-clasped in their fond lovers' 'circling arms; 
Venetian daughters, drifting aimlessly 
In graceful gondolas, the while their proud 
Attendants breathe to them sweet words of love; 
America's fair maidens, happiest yet 
Of all the earth, with gallant sweethearts true. 
When Luna shines her fullest, strolling through 
Lone country ways perfumed by new-cut grain ; — 
The joy of none of these could equal mine, 
When deep in mossy dells of evergreen 
Fir-forests we would wander onward, lured 
And lulled to sweet contentment by the breeze, 
The forest fragrance, and the cooling shade. 
Exceeding glory of delight, entranced ! 
Oh, happiness beyond horizon's bound! 
Sweet happiness — and I, poor foolish child, 
In pacifying ignorance, believed 
'Twould be eternal! 

Thus do all men err! 
Let no one wholly lose himself in love. 
'Tis but a means to a superior end. 
Which, overfeeding, palls the eager taste. 
The unchecked flame consumes the lavish soul, 
As fiercest sun the brooklet's liquid heart; 
And that which gently used had furnished life 



GRACIA. 33 

With food whereby to hope, and nourished soul, 
And kept the heart green all the journey through, 
Is wasted for the joyance of an hour! 

The sweets of love resemble much 
The jasmine' s flowers of gold ^ — 

In roots of both a poison lurks ^ 
That few scarce deem they hold. 



34 GRACIA. 



VII 

AT times a vague, uncertain sense of ill, 
Or dread of something unforeseen, but sure 
And terrible, would shake my shrinking soul 
With fear of change, as if a rose should feel 
The canker gnawing its once happy heart. 
Thus phantom-shapes of doubts and fears would 

haunt 
And fret my life ; they drove me almost mad. 
Though frightful these, at his soft -whispered word, 
I could forget; — such was my love for him. 

I might have known that love when it attains 
Such heights of bliss as mine, has naught beyond 
To seek; and seeking naught, as all things else 
That's ceased to grow, begins its certain death! 
'Tis Nature's method. Oh, the pathos, pain. 
And imperfection of all perfectness ! 

Too soon, alas ! these dim forebodings shaped 
Themselves to grim reality. One morn 



GRACIA. 35 

He did not come to share the early meal; 

Yet this alarmed me not, for oft he rose 

At dawn's first hint, and with his dog and gun 

Roamed o'er the hills; but not that day, nor next, 

Nor ever in the after-following days 

Came he again! 

'Twas then I knew the truth 
So lately feared, — he had deserted me! 
Gone wholly out from my glad life, like soul 
Gone quickly from its tenement of clay. 
My heart, from its far heights of lifting bliss. 
Dropped dead like winging bird when lightning 

riven. 
With woe unspeakable, that thought took form. 
Fierce waged the tumult of my brain and heart. 
There ever then was with me that which made 
M)'- peace unrest; my joy, deep discontent. 
Thus came the night to my love's blissful day! 

Nor Jiomed nor hallowed in the heavens beyond 

Is there in tenser Joy than one's first love; 

While hell itself contains no sadder thing 

Than blighted love, when turned to woman's shame! 



36 GRACIA. 



M 



VIII 

Y mother soon knew all. I did not try 

To hide the sin-fraught truth from her. Nor 
did 
She chide, rebuke, or speak reprovingly ; 
But wept with white, drawn face, and breaking heart: 
My sin had torn its ruthless, ragged way 
Straight to that ceaseless fount of godlike love. 

I think the saddest tears that ever fall 

From human eyes upon this tear-drenched earth 

Are those by mothers shed for ruined girls. 

Weep, mother, weep ; in sorrow dost thou eat 
The bitter fruit of thine own carelessness ! 
Couldst thou not see the signs of growing love? 
Didst thou not know that inexperienced youth 
Confides, believes, and has no will to hold 
Life's battlements against a wily foe? 
Why didst thou, mother, not protect thy child? 
And thou, O father, where wert thou the while 




'But^ivefl zvit/i iL'hite-drawn face and breaki?!^ heart. 



GRACIA. 37 

Thy child was tutored in life's mysteries 
By one unknown save by his polished mien? 
Why did ye give such license to thy child? 
Weep, parents, weep ; for ye are much to blame : 
Thy child the victim of thy heedlessness. 
So might I say, and saying, speak but truth. 
Yet God forbid! 'Twas fault of mine alone! 
I'll call it mine, for who can judge himself? 
'Twas I who caused my mother thus to drink 
Of sorrow's utmost dregs! 'Twas I who thrust 
The iron through that soul whose fountain pure 
Had nourished and sustained me all my years ; 
Thus did my guilt become a cruel shaft 
Which caused the blotting out of that fair life, — 
A life that Earth nor Time can e'er restore. 

Oh, bitter, poisoned cup! Ah, fatal draught! 
For soon she died! Love's magic fingers touched 
Her face, and brought the old smile back again ; — 
Death froze it there eternally. 

Then rose 
My stern and angry father from beside 
My mother's bier, and turned on me a glance 
Of wrathful lightning. I could seem to see 
The long ancestral line, whose name he bore 
Without dishonor and without a stain, 
Rise from their graves to point at me as one 



38 GRACIA. 

Who first brought shame upon their noble house. 

How wrong can e'en a father be! His child 

Betrayed, he should have closer clasped and held, 

Until just God bade both to rise, and take 

An honored seat beside His radiant throne: 

For who will help one if a parent fail? 

Through human means, God works: it may be just. 

Outside of home there is no pity, none! 

Society, thy laws are tyranny, — 

More cruel than was Draco's bloody code! 

He cursed me then, and bade me never seek 
For aid from him, nor see him evermore. 
Oh, such a curse ! It surely must have sent 
A shiver through the universe of God. 
It fell on me as falls the rude north wind 
On fragile flower; or as the blighting frosts 
Of winter, on the tender heart of May. 
My father, in impatient rage, seemed now 
As wild as Afghaun's Demon of the Waste! 



GRACIA. 39 



IX 



DISOWNED, forsaken, through the night I fled. 
Ne'er to return, or cross that threshold more. 
In pain and tears my burden thence I bore — 
The burden of my grief and sin and shame ! 
Since then, no day has dawned but brought 

despair ; 
No night has come without its conscious woe. 

How sad to leave a home for any cause ! 
'Tis doubly so to leave for cause like mine. 
How dear seemed each familiar spot, — all, all 
To vanish from my life, as fades a rare 
And pleasing dream ! For now my cherished home 
Grew dearer than before, just as a joy 
Withheld, increases fond desire. Aye, now 
My mother's gentle face, her tender love, 
Her angel bosom where my girlhood's griefs 
Found rest; the hills, and rivulets, and wastes; 
With over all fair heaven's wide arch of blue; 



40 GRACIA. 

Bound my young heart with bonds so strong that 

Time, 
Nor Life, nor Death could sunder even one. 
How strange it is that few do fully sense 
The matchless worth and beauty home contains, 
Until that birthright they have forfeited ! 
'Twas then my woe impressed me with its weight! 
Oh, home, my home, I see it as I speak. 
How soft and warmly bright the lamp-light shone ! 
What contrast to the gloom that hems my way, 
As, exiled now, I wander forth in strange 
And Stygian darkness of the night and world ! 

There is no beauty like the dying day. 
When cloud-filled, lowering sky is all aflame 
With gorgeous rays of sinking, blood-red sun ;— 
No pall so dense as when the sun dies down, 
And leaves great banks of blackened mists 
Upon the bosom of on-coming night. 

Aye, life is like a golden morn, soon changed 
To gloomy night ; or like a tender smile, 
Effaced by floods of bitter, grief-wrung tears. 

I found a home with lowly country folk, 
Who took me in, and shared their bread with me. 
Their words were few, yet they were kind and good, 
And full of frank and homely ministry. 



GRACIA. 41 

I needed help. The storm that rudely broke 
Upon my head had left me only my 
Pale life, — my listless, homeless, loveless life, — 
Save my fond, boyish lover, who, through all 
My woe and misery, had proved that oft 
A true-born nature covers gold with dross ; 
That, hidden from our sight, are jewels rich 
Whose beauty is revealed but by the grind 
And wear caught from the world's mad, jostling 
rush. 

My life seemed widely out of tune like some 
Neglected harp whose sweet -toned strings were 

snapped, 
Or wholly gone, — sad fragment of what was. 



42 GRACIA. 



X 



I HAD a hope, indeed, that soon a life 
Potentially existent would appear. 
To cheer and light me on my dreary way, 
To comfort and console. Within my heart 
There now upsprung a well of water sweet, 
That made my desert-life seem new again ; — 
Methought that gladly would I enter Death's 
Drear vale of woe and anguish, could I win 
And wear the sacred crown of motherhood. 

So passed the days. And did my early prayers 
Avail at last? Did God remember me? 
In the great scales of Justice Provident 
Would my youth's exemplary life outweigh 
The woman's one mistake, and leave me hope 
And love? 'Twere much to hope, and yet I clung 
To it as clings the sailor to the spar 
When yawning Deeps cry loud for sacrifice. 

My babe's first cry awoke the mother-love. 
The tiny thing was sweet, — a blossom blown 



GRACIA. 43 

Upon my breast, — it scented all my hopes! 
Life now meant all ; to me the stars came out 
Like sparkling diamonds sown along the sky ; 
The breezes blew as soft as zephyr's breath 
In Paradise; earth took the hue of spring; 
With fervent praise, 'mid buds and fragrant boughs, 
Birds sang as they were wont in sky and wood, — 
Sang songs of such pervading sweetness as 
Would soothe the soul to perfect, dreamful rest; — 
Fate's bitter cup was sweetened by my babe. 

O mother-love ! One fount unpoisoned yet ! 

Conventionality, which deadens all 

It touches into artificial fraud. 

May thrust the woman out, but can not frame 

The laws for mothers' hearts. I loved my child, 

An outcast though I was, and it my shame. 

No shame, indeed, where God shall be the judge; 

No shame, for Jesus, the Immaculate, 

Was brother to my babe so far as man 

Might know, if human tests must stand and be 

Criterion of sacred truth. Are love 

And confidence such baleful sin and crime? 

Is motherhood not honorable? Is there 

Condition that can make of it a wrong? ' 

Oh, say it not, but stand for God and right; 

Defend the truth ; ignore the social guild ; 

Contemn all laws that nature contravene ; 



44 GRACIA. 

Bring all to harmonize with God's decrees; 

Oh, make it good for children to be born ; 

Give royal welcome to the little ones; — 

Christ loved them; are ye better, then, than He? 

Let Magi bring to her their offerings, 

A daughter of the gods is born ! Her star 

Illuminates the sky, — so should men say 

But love of babe betrays me into speech 
That multitudes will hold as far from truth. 

I can not well relate to you how much 
I clave to her. My poor and lonely heart 
Was bathed — baptized within the rosy flow 
Of that strong flood of love, which like a tide 
Hides rocks and weeds upon the rugged beach 
And splendors it to beauty. Then at times 
I lifted up my face and smiled to God, 
Although He had forgotten me, it seemed, 
In my distress — so glad was I for this. His gift. 
This bud of His, close-grafted on my heart. 

I watched the child with mother-loving eyes 
That noted every change. She grew and throve 
Apace ; and at some trick of voice or hand — 
Mothers use such, and angels, too, I think — 
Would, laughing, coo and leap up as to fly. 
Her arms, like clinging necklaces of pearl, 




'/ luaiched the child tuiih 7nolher-lovu)g eycsy 



GRACIA. 45 

Clasped me around with living bands designed 
To guard, and bind me to eternal good. 
O sister, none but mothers knoAv the sweet. 
Contented love that fills the heart when one's 
Own babe with quiet yet responsive life 
Is clinging gently to the willing breast ! 



46 GRACIA. 



XI 

THEN came a change — a rude and cruel change. 
A blighting hand was over all. The babe 
I loved, nay, worshiped, thinner grew and 
pale, 
And pined away. I watched her angt| face, 
And saw the rose of health desert her cheek. 

mother-love, would thou hadst power enough 
To rend the heavens and slay the dragon, Death! 

1 could have borne the loss of home ; my own 
Heart's keen remorse; the finger of proud scorn; 
Abandonment of friends ; — I might have lived 
Without the love of him whose faithlessness 
Was my life's woeful blight, could I have kept 
The little life which heaven had granted me ; — 
Which Fate, in wicked disregard, denied. 

I sang soft melodies to soothe my child ; 
For I loved song, and often wove my moods 



GRACIA. 47 

Into sweet rhymes, and wedded them to tunes : — 
'Tis wish and wail form warp and weft of song. 

O Bud, unfold. 
And yield your fragrance to the wooing air; 
The ardent sun will kiss your petals fair; — 

Unfold, unfold. 

O nestling Bird, 
The summer breezes wait your untried wing; 
The trees in silence list to hear you sing; — 

Die not unheard. 

O Hope, so fair. 
Like rosy dazvn that brings the wished-for day, 
Hide not behind the clouds; fade not away, 

And leave despair. 

Fate might have spared my babe ; — it was to me 

As rain to thirsty earth, as sunlight is 

To life, or bird-song in the winter. But 

vShe faded as a flower. Soon her small face 

Grew pinched and pale; the little hands, sweet 

hands 
That used to move in such a tender way, — 
In such caressing search about m}^ face 
And neck, — now vaguely clutched the air in weak 
And fevered f retf ulness ; the dimpled limbs 



48 GRACIA. 

Grew pitifully shrunken and reduced ; 

The recognizing light now fled from her 

Young eyes. Then on the darkest, saddest day, — 

The dreariest of all the wearisome 

And heavy-laden days, — my baby died! 

And this, the last blow, fell with crushing force. 

I say the last ! — Blows manifold were yet in store, 

Indeed, but what was left for blows to strike ! 

Ah, think of me, kind sister, as I held 
Her to my aching heart, and watched the cold, 
Gray pallor steal o'er her dear face, and felt 
The little body stiffen ! Oh, what fierce 
And blighting anguish ! Frenzied by a sense 
Of loss, I sought to kiss to life my child ! 
It seemed I must succeed. Again and yet 
Again I kissed those death-cold lips ; — I kissed 
Those parted, passive lips. O God, what cold, 
Bewildering fear was mine when met with no 
Response ! When forced to feel the soul had fled — 
Forever fled, — naught left but clammy clay! 
Think you, could there be other grief so deep 
As this great one of mine? another heart 
So crushed, so broken, and so dead as this 
Poor heart now turned to hard, unfeeling stone? 
Dark, now, grew life. Perhaps you may have seen 
The cold, eclipsing moon obscure the face 
Of blazing sun, and nightfall drape the noon : 



GRACIA. 49 

That only blots some fraction of one day ; 
This blotted out the sun for me, and hung 
The cheerless midnight round me evermore. 

At dead of night, in my worn cloak I wrapped 
My babe, and with a silken token which 
He gave me once, I veiled her face ; — in her 
Unclasping hand I placed the faded rose 
He plucked for me the day he kissed me first. 
Ah, that first kiss ! Had it but been withheld, 
My child and life of sin might not have been ! 

Alone, along the ways where we so oft 
Had walked together in the days when love 
Was all in all, I bore her 'neath the cold, 
Unpitying stars. On, through the silent woods, — 
O'er paths we trod the day my virtue died — 
Deep-freighted with the pine-land's fragrant breath, 
Alone I trod; — pall-bearer of my dead! 

And there, alone, in that fair, fateful cave. 
Whilst midnight-mists enwrapt in moist embrace, 
I buried her, — my little, nameless babe. 
With tender care I pressed about that form 
The cold, damp mold, — grim sister to the dead. 
With mosses fresh, I carpeted the grave. 
I spread them soft and smooth above her, as 
I used to spread the little counterpane 



50 GRACIA. 

The while she, smiling-, slept upon her couch. 

Oh, it was hard to lay the little corpse 

Within the grave, and know none mourned but me ! 

Beside my babe I buried my dead joy. 

I knew that all was over then, and, with 

A sense of blankness, fell to earth. Around, 

Sad pine trees sighed in pity, — wanton winds 

Wailed weird, wild monodies, — a night bird called 

From out the dark in mournful monotone, — 

Black, broken clouds obscured the faint starlight. 

Between pale, distant Peace and woeful me. 

My babe— transfigured and enthroned — looked with 

Beseeching eyes, and them alone I saw. 

Dear^ tender, treasured babe, if ougJit divine 
E'er came to eartJi, to comfort and to bless, 
' Twas thy sweet self. To feel that thoii ivert mine. 
Aroused me from my grief and deep distress. 
And made my heart o'erfloiv tvith tJiankfulness. 

Sweet baby mine, with little cherub form. 
Soft, dimpled arms, and tender lily hands. 

Thou wert too frail to stand life's bitter storm, — 
So God hath summoned thee to brighter lands. 
Where flowers bloom forever on the strands. 



Yes, He knew best; He took my babe away 

To dwell with Him, — a spotless, snow-wJiite dove; 



GRACIA. SI 

Oh^ how I prayed that He would kindly stay 
The hand of Death; but now I know my love 
Has spanned the dark unknown to her above. 

Yes., from that home in heaveti, far away, 
She holds my heart with loving tendrils fast; — 

So shall it be at break of judgment day; 
Wheti all my zueary, wasted life is passed, 
Those cords of love shall guide me home at last. 

Then from a mother's flood of untold grief 
My reason vanished, as the sunlight leaves 
The hills, — as darkness gathers after light. 



52 GRACIA. 



XII 



LONG after, I awoke in solitude, 
^ And held communion with myself and Death. 
With nothing left to live for, why not die? 
Why not myself blot out old Time — false Time, 
So fraught with failures dire, and boldly launch 
Into Eternity? Mayhap the forms 
And facts of the Beyond would prove more kind 
And just. With fascination strange and strong, 
I contemplated suicide and death. 

As thus I lay, and faced the awful thought, 

A calm but sudden change possessed me then. 

My flesh forgot to creep as heretofore ; 

For now the monster seemed a willing friend, 

As true and sweet as Charity should be. 

The fleshless hands, outstretched, were soft and 

warm; 
The ugly mask was dropped ; when lo ! the face 
Smiled on me with a tranquil glow of peace. 
Not far, I heard the rippling river glide 



GRACIA. 53 

Adown its willowy banks, and thought the sound 

Was like the pleasing" laugh of infancy. 

But die, I could not ; for my hot blood leaped, 

And with indignant clamor swelled my veins, 

And roused within my heart rich songs of life ; 

Nature and instinct joined in strong revolt. 

Until I closed my heart against the call 

Of that soft, wooing stream, and turned again 

To live, since only life were possible. 

Then I resolved to conquer Life and Fate. 

Now, saved from self, my next concern was how 
I best might save myself from mad despair, 
And ever-haunting memory of disgrace. 



54 GRACIA. 



XIII 

FAIR type of progress, Hope, with wings out- 
spread, 
Standing, one foot upon the sea and one 
Upon the land, — as the Apocalypse 
Portrays God's messenger, — thou beckonest me 
To leap upon my feet and climb aloft. 
Up, up the steep — the mount of God — and stand 
Above the plane of common things, and place 
In Him, the Giver of all good, my trust. 

Thus Hope doth glorify this vale of life, 
As flowers beautify the meadow-land. 

Moved by the good Samaritan's long-famed 
Example, as portrayed in Holy Writ, 
I sought to turn my wasting energies 
Toward frail humanity's relief; for, oh, 
The many opportunities! And grand 
The pleasures of the task ! 



GRACIA. 55 

With willing hands 
I dulled the sense of pain ; with gentle words, 
Disarmed the force of sorrow ; and through these 
Angelic offices, experienced sweet. 
New joy of living. So, with patient, rare, 
And dauntless hope I fought alone the fierce, 
Hot battles for the poor against their worst 
And constant enemy — grim poverty; 
I interposed my life between the sick 
And their destroyer — pestilence. For good, 
And leave to live, I wrought this work. And well 
I strove with needed helpfulness. How bright 
The gleam it threw athwart my grief! Ah, sweet 
It is to bind a broken soul ! Aye, sweet 
It is to do the things one ought! God, that 
This lesson came to me too late ! 

Life now 
Grew tolerate ; the keenness of remorse 
Was deadened by the joy of doing right. 
The little sacrifices which I made 
To brighten others' lives, — to heal their woes, — 
Brought soothing peace to my torn, bleeding heart. 
By such sweet ministries I hoped to gain 
Full pardon for the error of my youth ; 
And by repentance and a righteous life, 
I sought from Him above forgiveness for 
My sins. 



56 GRACIA. 

None know the full import of life 
Until they measure it by sacrifice. 
Seek not reward in gold or gratitude ; 
'Tis found alone in consciousness of right. 
All find a high uplift who imitate 
The Christ. 

'Tis said, "The heart grows richer that 
Its lot is poor. " If this be true, then, sure. 
My selfless service should enrich, uplift, 
Redeem. 

In vain, alas! howe'er so pure 
Our motive be, our deeds, they ever stand 
Between us and each course, bright sword of flame. 
My high resolve, a vision proved as frail 
As when in desert dun the traveler sees, 
Far through the tremulous air, tall groves of palms 
Encircling pools of shimmering blessedness, — 
Pale phantasy of sight, — a fair mirage! 
Society, which might have helped me, sneered 
In scorn, and only sought to crush all pure 
Intent. Nay, viewed me as a harlot, — imp 
Of hell. The church, whose duty 'tis to seek 
And nurture such, looked on askance, as if 
I were polluted, social carrion ; 
And then, regardless of all motives and 
A conscientious, consecrated work, 



GRACIA. 57 

Suspicions grew, and, last, abandoned me 
Completely. Aye, resultless were my deeds, 
As wicked men's, who fret the patient earth 
That gives them sustenance. Unjust! Unjust! 
'Tis thus warm hopes are changed to chill despair; 
'Tis thus that heaven's gates are barred to those 
Whose souls, perhaps, are not elected lost. 
Where is the blame? Not mine, but theirs; aye 

theirs 
For all that follows, and — for much before ! 

'Tis hard to pardon, easy to condemn! 

Society which judges, simply hears 

The worst, condemns, and straightway executes. 

'Tis easier far to render judgment so; 

Investigation wearies, — only tends 

To mystify, confuse ; and thus confounds, 

Delays, or hinders all amendment here, 

A certain beast-force, undiscerning, blind. 

Rules and compels the world, and calls itself 

Conventionality ; while men kneel down — 

But women most — before the Oracle, 

And whine and beg till they obtain the card — 

The gilded passport — with this Golden Rule, 

"Conceal thy sins, and be thou one of us." 

We read how He, v/ho yet will judge us all. 

Wrote idly with His finger on the sand, 

As though he heard not the accusing Jews, 



58 GRACIA. 

With eager malice, cursing one who fell : 

Read how He lifted up Himself at last, 

Then spake some words at which they quickly fled ; 

Then He, the sinless One among them all, 

Turned to the penitent and spake the words 

That few have spoken since, or learned to speak, — 

"Neither do I condemn thee: go in peace." 

Just God in loving mercy, erring ones 
Forgives : not so humanity ; its laws 
Annul his gracious judgments, and reverse 
Christ's holy teachings, and with foul reproach 
They loud exclaim, "The fallen shall not rise." 
And "they" — oh, who are "they?" The caddish 

crowd 
Who sin far more than that frail woman who 
Would seek release from her sad sin; who'd wash 
The stain away from soul with her heart's blood; 
Who longs for death — the only open way 
To peace for fallen woman's troubled soul! 
They vaunt a prestige none but God can claim. 
If, in the vision Nature mirrors, they 
Could see aright, they would behold their own 
Reflection grimly, truly shadowed forth. 

Unlearning is more tedious than to learn. 

And irksome 'tis to uproot trees long set, 

Both strong with sturdy growth, and rooted deep. 



GRACIA. 59 

When late time comes for planting of the truth, 
We must replot in after years the field 
Of life we tilled so joyously in youth. 
Thoughts that take root the soonest in the soul 
Are oft but tares that cumber long the ground, 
And long the gardener, Reason, toils in vain, 
Yet finds the soil unfitted for the growth 
Of aught save worthless, superstitious weeds. 

Why should it be my doom thus to endure? 

Humanity could well have been more kind. 

Why not have judged me as I wished and willed. 

And not by act beyond control? Why not 

Have weighed the motives which surround the 

wrongs 
Committed, rather than with glee to curse 
The doer, weak and frail? 

Vain hope that led 
Me then to know this truth: no pardon comes 
Unless 'tis bought with gold! I tried to heal 
The Past, but failed for need of aid. Thus rare 
And negligent is human charity! 



6o GRACIA. 



XIV 

THEN came misfortune as a flood; — came full 
And fast, as tears course down the face of 
grief. 
Recurring troubles eddied round about 
Like straws upon the whirlpool's seething edge. 

Aye, sorrows multiply as wing6d hours 
That flit to fasten on eternity. 

I could not front such fateful, fearful odds ! 
•Twas sympathy, not sermons, that I craved. 
I could not stand alone. What woman can? 
'Tis my belief, she needs, when once her course 
Leads wayward and astray — in lieu of words 
That bitterly upbraid and keenly cut 
With cruel, cold rebuke — a tender glance; 
Words soft as music of the sea; and full, 
Strong sympathy which wells from loving hearts. 
Supported thus, she can withstand life's hard, 
Insistent woes and sad catastrophes. 



GRACIA. 6i 

None wholly lose the innocence of youth; 
E'en shells retain the murmur of the sea, 
And roses, crushed, the fragrance they possess. 

The blows and buffets of the world have taught 
Too late this added truth: I learned 
That one false step is ne'er retrieved; and this: 
Joy grows not in the soil that breeds remorse, 
Nor thrives beneath the dew of hopeless tears. 

Then,- weary, worn and wretched, from the world, 
Unkind and cold, I turned to solitude, 
There to escape o'erwhelming weight of woe ; 
But when alone with my drear thoughts, they, too, 
Whipped me with scorpion whip and knotted lash. 
And grew entangled and distraught ! O God, 
What pain, what torture pangs of conscience are! 
Far keener than the taunt and scorn of men! 
My night had come ere noon ! I longed for rest. 
Forgetfulness were Mercy's greatest boon; 
Oblivion, Fate's most kind, indulgent gift; — 
For what allurements could entice my soul 
Away from its companion, Misery? 



62 GRACIA. 



XV 



ONE ray of hope remained; — but that involved 
Humility, — meant sacrifice of pride. 
To supplicate the man who wronged me, was 
The hardest task of all. Yet this was done ! 
I wrote him once; — each separate word I penned 
Was a caress ; each phrase, a fervent prayer. 

I wrote him of my heart's distress; how drear 

To live with hope and love unsatisfied; 

How dread to die unmourned. Then, pleading, 

claimed 
The needed home and happiness which he 
Alone could give ; urged him, with tear- wet words. 
And by the memory of our vanished joys, 
To let not my dear dream of love dissolve ; 
But rescue, shelter, and retrieve from death — 
Or what were worse — the mother of his child. 
I prayed for disenthrallment from my woes; 
For freedom from the dross of sin and shame! 
And then I waited as the lost might wait 



GRACIA. 63 

Outside the gate of heaven, harkening there 
For angel voices saying, "Come." And thus 
The weary days dragged on; — and he? He met 
My prayer with silence ! 

One sweet, tender word 
Would have unbarred the golden gates of bliss, — 
A bliss than heaven's joy more rapturous far, — 
And let such floods of light fall on my soul 
As would have served to guide my faltering steps 
From this drear path whose end meant awful doom. 
But silence stifled peace and hope and love 
Now rose that hideous monster, Hate, and cried 
Revenge ! My shame intensified my mood. 
Oh, how I hated him! Aye, hated as 
Those only hate who have too deeply loved ; 
For Love can not with dark Suspicion dwell. 
Ah, how I cursed him then! And such as he. 
For their alluring wiles wound, purposely. 
About frail innocence to tempt and wrong. 
I think the fluent fiends that nest below, 
And murmur alway, must have been surprised 
To hear themselves so savagely outdone. 
Had I not reason for my swelling hate? 
I chanced my all upon his love, — and lost; 
And then was left to bear the shame alone. 
Betrayed, despised, rejected, and condemned; — 
Whilst he in cultured circles moved — a man ! 



64 GRACIA. 

Neglected, I, — like solitary shrub, 
That, high upon the barren mountain side, 
Apart from all its kind, stands bent and dwarfed, 
Its branches broken, victim of the storm. 
What helpless doom — to wander o'er life's way 
Alone till sabled Death companion me! 
I sank aweary with this endless wrong — 
This sullen, surging sea of strife and pain ! 

I did not know what now I understand ; — 
The storm that only bends the oak, will rend 
The fragile tendrils of the clinging vine, 
And hurl it, torn and tangled, to the earth. 

As one can see reflected in a stream. 

The arching, amber sky ; the richest tints 

Of foliage; faint, trembling gleams of light; 

And flashes of rich fire that form a play 

Of color only such as hath the rare 

And changing opal, queen of all the gems; — 

And as another from the farther bank, 

Can see but murky blackness, — so, now, 'tis 

With me. From thorn-cursed bank whereon I stand. 

The farther shore is draped in gloom ! A wraith 

Of what I saw with eyes of innocence ; 

For then all things were dipped in living dyes 

And decked in rose and gold. Oh, how our views 

Are changed by circumstance and time ! 



GRACIA. 65 



XVI 

THE frowning Shadows deepened, and the light 
Of Hope died out, and Faith unclasped her 
hand 
To leave me groping in the thickening gloom, 
With poor bruised brain, perplexed, confused, and 

dull;— 
It seemed that I must surely go insane ! 
For I remembered in the years gone by. 
When my young heart by sin was yet unsoiled, 
Ere I had learned to recognize and know 
What furies track and torture human lives. 
That once I saw — a sight to freeze the blood — 
A woman 'wildered with insanity! 
Her incoherent speech, her mad, wild eyes, — 
That Gorgon-glare — which well might chill to stone 
The gazer unprepared — my after-nights 
To torment turned with dreadful, haunting dreams; 
And to my soul it is a terror still. 
In this wild mood I little cared for life, 
But yearned to keep my reason. How I shrank 
From thoughts of going mad — insane ! Insane ! 



66 GRACIA. 

"Great God!" I cried, "take hope, — take life, — take 

ail- 
But do not leave me of my mind bereft!" 
But fevered cares caused me to brood upon 
Their fearful cost. One sinful deed disturbs 
The whole of life, e'en as a pebble tossed 
On placid sea, dispels the imaged sky: 
From my one fault a demon sprang that wrecked 
My peace of mind. At night, when all the world 
Found rest in healthful sleep, my couch withheld 
The balm. Oft, oft I left my troubled bed, 
And used, as devotees their rosaries 
Enumerate, to count my losses o'er. 
What had I lost ! What sacrifices made ! 
Dispelled — all radiant illusions ; quenched — 
Enthusiasm's flames; destroyed — my plans 
And possibilities ; dissolved — my hopes 
And aspirations ; lost — my virtue and 
My hope of heaven! Then, goaded by a sense 
Of my great loss — peace, honor, happiness, 
Love, wifehood, home, and heaven — my brain grew 

dazed, 
And feverish. 

Insane! Insane! In turns 
I rave and plead — my intellect and heart 
At variance. Like combatants they fight. 
Each striving for the mastery. When Heart 
Prevails, my love then brings him near and throws 




"Oft, oft Heft mytrovblcdbed, 
And used, as dez'otees their rosaries 
Enumerate, to count my losses oVr. " 



GRACIA. 67 

Around his image splendor like the sun's! 

In joy I clasp him in my arms; soft words 

Of tenderness fall from my lips ; hot tears 

Stream from my eyes that make my pillow wet. 

He seems so beautiful, so good, so grand — 

Not Phidias' Apollo is more fair, 

Nor God himself surpasses him in love. 

And attributes of nobleness, supreme ! 

Then Brain advances with Plutonic might. 

And Heart is battered from control! It sinks! 

Not e'en Medusa with her serpent hairs, — 

Their forked tongues protruding, hissing hate, — 

Is so intent as Brain to ruin all ! 

Ah! then I rave and rage, — gone, gone stark mad, — 

Like one possessed of devils. I resolve 

Revenge on him — a woman's deep revenge. 

O sister fair, what hopeless hope was all 
That then was left ! Unseemly my complaint, 
And inconsistent ! Who hath not some grief, 
Which, if 'twere known, might far exceed mine own? 
Ah, none are free from bonds and fetters strong 
That link them captive, — ofttimes slaves — the whole 
Of their brief span of life, — to earth's drear dust! 
'Twas ever thus with countless throngs who came 
Before ; 'twill be thus ever with the crowds 
That shall in all the ages follow them. 



68 GRACIA. 



XVII 

I LEFT my dead among the scented pines; — 
My mother's tomb o'er which the marble 
gleamed , 
My baby's grave, a little, nameless mound; 
And all the hopes and loves that I had lost ; — 
And resolutely set my face to seek 
The distant city by the ocean's marge; 
For it was widely rumored, there he dwelt 
In ease and splendid opulence ; and there 
Would I my vengeful purpose execute. 

No shielding hand was raised, no warning voice 
Was heard. I was about to "dash my foot 
Against a stone," yet from the guarding sky 
No angel hastened. Nothing intervened. 
I seemed uncertain of firm footing now 
E'en as a traveler on a crater's edge. 
I was a wild waif rushing swift to hell ! 

I thought of God. To Him I'd prayed through all 
My happy years; at mother's knee I lisped 



GRACIA. 69 

The prayer she taught me never to forget; 

At my own bedside when a woman grown, 

With clear, calm voice, by conscience justified, 

I prayed the prayer Christ taught this wicked 

world : — 
"Into temptation, Father, lead us not; 
Deliver us from evil, e'en in thought." 
My young life was an offering unto Him, 
Far purer than the blood of sacrifice. 
And yet all seemed to be of no avail. 
Since evil purposes enthralled my will. 
Oh, such despair — despair like shoreless sea ! 



70 GRACIA. 



XVIII 

WHILST thus I felt my isolation, — yea, 
Believed none cared to stay my further fall, — 
My youthful lover, whom I knew before 
I met the man whose life absorbed mine own, 
Came with his messages of love and life. 
Thus he of all proved bravely true to me. 
This youth, by native honesty induced, 
In simple, candid words, his love declared, 
And urged me with the fervor of his soul 
To join with him in wedded life; to share 
With him his distant home and ample wealth. 
It came to me like tender, pleading voice 
From some lost world; — from that lost world of my 
Far youth ; my distant, priceless innocence ' 
His words of truth and trust, hot-welded firm 
By simple eloquence, — the thread of love 
He spun from golden strands of living faith — 
From my base purpose almost turned my thoughts. 
The burthen of his plea has shaped itself 
Into a song — a song my heart loves oft 
To sing: — 



GRACIA. 71 

There's a grave in the mountains that I have kept, dear; 
O'er the mound the sweet columbine drapes its rich bloom; — 
* Tis the grave of your child, Gracia; you should be near: 
If you come, we together shall lift the dark gloom. 

There's a home in the mountains that I have now, dear; 
And the birds sing around it as sweet as of yore; — 
' Tis the hojne of your youth, Gracia; shed not a tear: 
If you come, we together shall love evermore. 

There's a truth in the mountains that I have found, dear; 
In their silences, often it crowds on my soul; — 
' Tis the love of our God, Gracia; you shall not fear: 
If you come, zve together shall reach the true goal. 

In tears and pain I heard his eager plea. 

As arrow found a lodgment in the oak, 

So his brave, honest words reached my poor heart. 

My soul was full of longing, full of love, 

And full of praise, and yet my heart was dead. 

I closed the gate of Hope the second time 

And turned again to wretchedness and woe. 



72 GRACIA. 



XIX 

Hot the fever and fierce the fight — 
Love's endurance, love's delight: 

Raging hot and consiuning all — 
Passion's play and passion' s pall: 

TO live and have revenge — this was my wish. 
I had no way nor right by which I dared 
Confront him at his home, or in the high 
Society in which he moved, — and so 
I pondered much how I might meet with him. 
My reckless will resolved upon a course, 
Which, while it brought destruction on my head. 
Would also bring to him most dire remorse ; — 
I chose the path that wicked women take. 
My dull despondency and drear despair. 
Together with the thought that it would crush 
His haughty heart and humble him the more 
To learn of my defilement and disgrace, 
Determined me to lead a life of shame ! 
Instinctively I felt 'twas thus I could 



GRACIA. 73 

Accomplish best my purpose. Quickly then 

My plans I formed; at once the wanton's guise 

My life assumed. I paused not lest in calm 

Review, the remnant of true womanhood 

Rebuke my chosen, reckless, sinful course ; 

Some foresight of the ills, thick-shadowing 

My path, had saved me from this blighting life. 

I reckoned not upon the after-cost, 

But deep in wicked ways I plunged as straight 

As heavy plummets find the lower deep. 

To gain revenge, I gave my nights and days; 

Made sacrifice of self, complete and full ; 

Formed compact with the very Prince of Wrong; 

Joined hands with any means however base, 

Or any evil thing however low, 

That might enable me to punish him, — 

To punish him who wrought this fearful wrong. 

And more I strove ; for hate is twin to crime : — 

I prayed that I might skilled become in ways 

Of baleful wickedness ; might know the false 

For subtle use ; might wreathe my face in smiles 

Of luring sorcery; mJght arm my tongue 

With all suggestive words and double phrase. 

I caught the Lorelei's enchanting song, 

And her seductive, graceful, languorous pose, 

Thus swiftly riotous had I become 

In passion's dizzying and damning whirl. 

And thus I strove till charm of courtesan 



74 GRACIA. 

Was mine, — and all that witchery of grace 
Which lures but to betray to sin and death ! 

In learning these vile arts, I quickly found 
Most rare facilities. I dwelt within 
The house of her whose steps take hold on hell, — 
Whose chambers are the dwelling-place of death. 

'Twas not the fascination of the place 

Which bound, but my fixed purpose, ever new 

And fiercely strong; although it was, indeed, 

A palace fit to throne a nation's King, 

Where taste and skill had wrought from fancy, fair. 

Such grace and beauty as would lull the mind 

Away from care to sweet forgetfulness. 

'Twas beautiful as any fairy's dream; 

'Twas grand as fabled Neptune's ocean home. 

A filmy sheen of woven gold and lace 

As frail as gossamer, the windows draped. 

Which dulled the rays to wooing dimness rare ; 

Gold-flashing fans, propelled by force unseen, 

A coolness gave as fresh as midnight's breath; 

The perfumed air in gentlest motion set, 

Would wanton with the loosened hair and soft. 

Fine lace that scarce would hide the lovely form ; 

The dazzling chandeliers' effulgent glow 

Of richest tinted lights, reflected here 

From polished surfaces, and there absorbed 



GRACIA. 75 

By softest folds of Oriental weaves, 

Shed golden glory-showers over all ; 

From quaintest Tuscan vases, deftly wrought. 

The creamy petals of magnolia buds 

Were bursting into flower, whose fragrance filled 

The air with incense like the dreamy East; 

Pulsating songs, linked with sweet, silver strains 

Of harp, scarce-heard, set ardent thoughts aflame. 

Within those wide, luxurious parlors were 

Divans and lounges of most tempting ease ; 

Whilst lazy Eastern hammocks occupied 

Half -hidden alcoves where, amid the soft 

And silken cushions, women, — fair as false — 

Lay Circe-like, and beckoned with a smile, — 

Displayed voluptuous charms enticingly, 

To stir the amorous blood of frequenters. 

Each separate room seemed furnished for a prince. 

With queens to minister. Mohammed might 

Have looked therein and dreamed another dream 

Of beauty richer than his houri-heaven, — 

A dream of reckless, ravishing delight! 

A sensuous dream of wild abandonment! 

Here Pleasure marked the hours his very own ; 
Here Prince of Darkness held his court unchecked! 
There shone and flashed about the visitor 
To that abode temptation, diamond-starred ; 
All forms of beauty that bewitch to kill; 



76 GRACIA. 

Perverted intellects to foul the mind ; 
Allurements, subtle, — sure to damn the soul! 

But few behold and scorn the tempting- snare : 
To scorn, aye, better still, ne'er to behold, 
Is wisdom, virtue, peace, and righteous life. 

United with the wish to please, rare grace 
And beauty, make the woman master; make 
The man the woman's ever-ready slave. 
Ah, beauty — woman's chiefest, mightiest charm! 
Not Lethe's fabled waters, nor that strange 
And subtle force that lurks in lotus blooms 
And poppy buds, make men forget so soon 
As when fair woman weaves her mystic spell ! 

And men came flocking there to throw away 
Both wealth and name ; to thrust aside their homes 
Like garments long outworn and comfortless. 
Thus women use their witching powers to soothe 
And lull their victims to soft, magic trance. 
From out whose sure awakening there comes 
A fall, abrupt, like that from heaven to hell. 
The night was one mad revel till the dawn — 
The dawn, a prologue to the coming night. 
The gods, wild Eros and bold Bacchus, each 
In turn, held his intense, despotic sway, 
And women carnivaled in wickedness ! 



GRACIA. 77 

Men, women, all, are servile slaves to style. 
This truth I realized, and chose with care 
Rich silks whose every rustle sang sweet songs 
Of languorous rest beyond the distant seas; 
Embroidered ribbon — ornaments superb — 
With glossy tints, and antique open work ; 
Old lace from Eastern looms, within whose web 
Lay hid a charm which held men bound to vice. 
'Tis pity beauty must contribute thus 
To sin ! But so it is ; for who denies 
That certain perfumes haunt, becloud the mind ; 
And passages of passionate music stir 
The blood to surging, dangerous rioting? 

Most graciously they welcomed comers there, 

And soft and sweet their wiles and wooing ways ; 

But with their every charmful look, combined 

Intoxicatingly some hurtful lure. 

Fair forms and graceful, flitted fairy-like, 

Clad dimly, as the moon in silver mist. 

They danced and sang and stirred the reveller's blood 

To riot, and benumbed respect and shame. 

The red wine, sparkling in the crystal cup, 

Pressed to men's lips by warm, caressing hands, 

Might tempt a saint to lose his soul, forsooth. 

Strong men and feeble, foolish men and great, 
Beset the house, but shunned each other's gaze, 



78 GRACIA. 

And stole away through dark, deserted streets, 
To hate themselves with abject soul for days; 
But still returned, as eager as before, 
To plunge into illicit revelry. 

Few thought or cared to know where these things 

led, 
Still seeking pleasure, blind to coming doom ; 
And few who gathered there had open eyes, 
And none saw through the flimsy show of joy 
To its red consequence and rude result, — 
Disease and death, wrecked lives and ruined homes. 
But woman loses more, is more disgraced. 
Man is the baser metal, and the stains 
And soilure scarcely serve to tarnish him, — 
For he is nearer earth, and earthlier. 
But woman, jostled from her sacred place — 
Her purity and innocence once marred — 
Must fall so far; and spots on her fine gold 
Look grosser still, and vastly uglier. 
Her throne forsaken once is not regained ; 
Aye, more ; she knows not any pause in sin ! 

Let truth be told. I know of deeds of ill 
That make the background of that fevered life 
To reek with horror, which, when thought upon. 
Would strike the very soul with mortal dread; 
For they were black with passion, red with blood. 



GRACIA. 79 

Ah, there were found unspoken depths of vice! 

Sometimes one vanished from her 'customed place ; — 

Inquiry learned that she was cast aside — 

Was absent under ban of living- death — 

Her place was filled, and nothing more was said. 

At early morn, once passing through the hall, 

I slipped, and falling, bathed these hands in blood! 

A tragic tale ! Some lover had in fierce 

And jealous rage, his mistress foully slain! 

And there she lay with wide, unseeing eyes, — 

A sight to make eyes sightless evermore! 

I've heard with fear a baby's feeble wail; 

One never heard that same child's wail again! 

My icy pulses shudder when I think 

What morsel fed the sewer rats that night. 

A gray-haired pair once came and searched the house, 

And found their idolized and only child, 

Perverse and proud, but beautiful as sin. 

They made such fervor of appeal to her, 

Such passionate display of love and shame 

As might have won a savage from his tribe. 

She only stamped her idle foot, and said 

She would not leave her merry loves and dress, 

Nor ever live their humdrum life again ; 

Bade them begone, and think of her no more. 

They turned away in agony of grief 

More keen than that above a new-made grave ! 

Poor fool ! When sinful passion had consumed 



8o GRACIA. 

The newer joys and buoyant hopes of youth's 
Bright years, she learned so to despise herself, 
And so to hate her soul-corroding life, 
That with a mad, despairing leap, she found, 
Within the mud and slime and sluggish ooze 
At bottom of the river, rest at last. 
And one, far gone in drink and jealousy. 
But cunning as a hungry savage beast, 
Tied fast her lover's hands behind his back, — 
He sleeping, heavy with excessive wine, — 
Then, with her silken kerchief round his neck, 
With cruel, noiseless skill, she strangled him ! 
We found her in the closing hours next day. 
Kissing with frantic grief the purple lips, 
And weeping on his bloated face, — insane! 

Such hellish lives are like blood-sucking bats; — 
Both fatten only during gloom of night ! 

The woe and waste of war are far less dread 
And devastating than the blight that falls 
With certain force in Passion's fearful work, — 
'Tis as calamitous as wreck of worlds. 
Aye, Pleasure dances on the grave of Peace, 
And builds the tomb of Innocence and Love! 

Through all this maddening tempest of delights,- 
This hideous whirlpool of iniquity, — 
I kept my purpose steadfast as a star; 



GRACIA. 8i 

For Love was fiercely battled back by Hate, 

And red Revenge usurped complete control. 

1 was the gayest siren of them all ; 

The wildest reveler with broadest jest ; 

A jeweled beauty with the sweetest smile. 

My name and fame were bandied 'bout the streets. 

Men said I could have robbed Old Egypt's queen 

Of Antony, or Helen-like, o'erthrown 

Another Troy. Intense and burning hate, 

And my desire to lure him to my side 

That I might vengeance wreak as I had planned, 

So wrought upon my powers of soul and sense. 

And so intensified the flame of life, 

That I became as charming as a fiend, 

And lured my victims to the whirlpool's depths. 

Impatience, whetting keenly my revenge, 

Led me to think my new-begotten charms 

Would bring within my power the man whom I 

Had sworn to punish for his perfidy. 

I think the pine trees of my native hills 
Must nightly croon a mystic monody — 
An answering echo of my heart's lone cry — 
Because of my intent ; more sorrowful, 
More kindly, thus, is Nature than is man. 
The burden of their dirge, — my life and love 
And loss, — must sound as sorrowful as some 
Regretful wail wrung from -^olian harps, 



82 GRACIA. 

The while the wild wind, crashing through their 

chords, 
Capricious seems and fickle as is Chance. 

Dear sister, thou hast read in Grecian myths 

(And thy fair soul with anguish wast awrack). 

Of how the lovely maid, Andromeda, 

Enchained, alone, to gloomy sea-wall rock, 

Exposed as prey to monster insensate. 

Whose angry lashings churned the sea to foam, 

Whose hideous, loathsome form and gloating eyes 

Stormed at her soul until it sank in fear, — 

By Perseus was released; of how this Knight 

In girth of gold and shield asheen, with strong 

Swift-flashing blade, fell on the hellish brute. 

And champion proved, and brave deliverer! 

If moved by sufferings of Andromeda, 

What must thou feel for v/asted womanhood 

Forever fettered to dark, dreadful shame? 

What deep reproach upon our Christian age 

To know that woman, — frail, sweet woman, chained 

To sin and vice, — must trail her wretchedness 

Alway, with none to champion ! True, Christ 

In pity freed the Mary Magdalene ; 

But who of all His followers hath dared 

To interpose for one incarnadined? 

The myth is mask of woe ; this fact is woe 

Itself! 



GRACIA. 83 



XX 



Whilst other eyes are Eastward turned — 
And high — to view the Star of Bethlehem, — 
Fair prophecy of World's resplendent Light, — 
I ever sit and gaze a-west and dream ; — 
Gaze Westward toward my distant sundown home ! 

Oft homeward ranged my thoughts, 'Twas this that 

scourged 
My soul ! The quiet country, peaceful, pure. 
That rose to meet, in hills and billows, morn's 
Caressing sun ; contented laborers. 
At eager tasks that, sanctioned both by man 
And conscience, furnish heaven-like rest and peace ; 
Gay children, care-free, who, intent upon 
Their romping sports, are joyous from their own 
Unconscious innocence ; my early friend, 
Whose constant heart held him my lover still 
Through clouded years, though no encouragement 
Was granted him in such unequal change ; — 
All, all reminded me of my lost years, 



84 GRACIA. 

And set reproach upon my wicked life. 

'Twas then conviction fell like lightning's bolt! 

Would God that tears could wash the blackness out ! 

angel aim, and angel grace of youth ! 

1 sometimes sang a song I learned when pain, 
And grief, and loss to me were idle words ; 
And how I loved the lines — sweet memory! — 
Perchance prophetic of the days to be — 

Yet as I tried to sing I only moaned : 

Once more to be a happy girl, 
With bounding foot and flyirig curl^ 

A t romp among the hay; 
Like bubbles where the waters purl, 
Or mists that round the hilltops furl. 

As bright and pure as they. 

To feel m.y mother's hand so light 
Upon my head, and in her sight 

To rest secure from harms; 
To dream, it all anew at night. 
And in the morn find fresh delight ^ 

A nd nestle in her arms. 

The sunshine fell like golden spray. 
And every month to me was May, 



GRACIA. 85 

No shadow in my sky; 
Nor did the hours of any day 
Drag slowly: fast they fled away 

As swift as swallows fly. 

O stormy day, at morn so fair, 

O gathered clouds and darkened air, 

Cheerless, and cold, and gray! 
Outcast, alone, with none to care. 
To touch my hand, my grief to share, 

Or bid my steps delay. 

When thoughts of girlhood crowded on my mind, 
I wept for my fond, faithful steed on which 
I used to ride in rhythmic beat across 
Far-reaching plains, where open prairie rose 
And fell as though a sea, upon whose great 
Receptive bosom billows hastened fast 
In fealty to the shores, where, breaking, they 
Would find a rest eternal as the past ; 
I longed to hear the rush of summer storm, 
To measured, rumbling roll of thunder-peal, 
Like hurried tread of mighty mail-clad hosts; 
I yearned for my wide circling mountain-peaks, 
Whose dizzy heads it seemed to me might prop 
The planet-peopled skies ; I longed for wild, 
Familiar mountain brooks that swiftly dashed 
Amidst huge, rugged boulders and lodged logs 



86 GRACIA. 

As troubled souls are tossed and swirled about 
When on their intricate and dangerous way 
Toward cold eternity ; I craved the deep 
Recesses of the woods where silences 
Impress as though they were the dwelling-place 
Of God alone ; I sighed for seas of wide 
Expanse — low foot-hills and low, level plains, 
Where browns prevail — the dull, deep Van Dyke 

shades 
Of brown, and pale, still, ashen grays of Death ; 
Where, from the level wastes around, we learn, 
As mountains, crumbling, lose their eminence, 
And blending in one common lot, blot out 
All past distinction of wide valleys, deep 
Ravines, or towering mountain-peaks, — so all, — 
The strong, the great — by Death are leveled low 
Despite their clamorous boast. 

Oh, once again 
To roam o'er silver-fretted rocks; to sport 
On gold-besprinkled sands ; to pluck the gay. 
Wild blooms that beckon one from every side 
To sweet companionship ! Fair flowers, and wild ! 
Sweet primrose, and the nodding columbine 
Bedecked, festooned earth's throbbing, heaving 

breast ; 
The dandelions — golden medals — lay. 
Profusely scattered, 'mongst the new-grown green; 



GRACIA. 87 

Pale violets — as broken bits of sky — 
At random mottled patches of the ground ; 
The golden-rod, — ablaze upon dull hills, — 
Outvied the noonday sun ; gay buttercups — 
Like frail, lit candles — gleamed from out the grass; 
And black-eyed daisies starred the glens, as bright 
The Pleiades begem the cold night skies. 
Fair, fragrant blooms of every hue and form 
Completely carpeted the woodland glades 
With richer figurings than tapestries 
Of Ispahan. Oh, but to be a child, 
And live again 'mid scenes where summer airs 
Are nightly cooled by snows on mountain peaks, 
And odors freshly spread by cedar trees 
That mantle every glade, and tamarack 
That stretching high and far away, becomes 
A sea of sea-green growth ; where free, glad birds 
Whose flight — but why should I thus have and hold 
Such wild, vain thoughts? They were but plummet- 
line 
Wherewith to sound the depths of my sad fall ! 

How great is loss of virtue ! Virtue is 

The fairest, frailest flower ever found 

In the bouquet of human attributes. 

An amaranth of spotless purity, 

When once it fades, it never blooms again. 

To what great depths of woe fall those who lose 



88 GRACIA. 

This rare and priceless bloom ! What peace of mind 
And joy of life go out when its bright tint 
And fragrant perfume waste away! 'Tis then 
That savage Ruin holds one firmly thralled ! 

And are these tears that dim mine eyes? Away! 
I thought my fount of feeling naught could touch ! 



GRACIA. 89 



XXI 

ONE day, when mad with misery, I joined 
The jostling throngs upon the busy streets, 
To lose myself within that surging sea 
Of utter loneliness, found nowhere save 
In those vast crowds that throng the thoroughfares 
And marts of teeming cities. Seething tides 
Of restless human kind swept on, and I 
With them, with wishes wayward as the winds. 
As thus I moved, before me in the street, 
I saw a rich and costly equipage. 
Upon the cushioned seat, in easy pose. 
He lounged — the man I sought ! — for whom I had 
Assumed the very livery of hell 
That I might be equipped to seek him out. 
And wreck his happiness as he had mine ! 
At sight of him, a sudden, surging train 
Of half-forgotten memories returned, — 
Caused quickened blood to press about my heart, 
And would have softened it, had not the sight 
Of her, his fair, proud wife, and one sweet child, 



90 GRACIA. 

Beside him there, — where my poor babe and I 
Of right had been, — suppressed my mood, and fixed 
My purpose staunch, and firmer than before. 
Cursed be the hour I saw them there ! And cursed 
Be they! I could not bear the bliss of her 
Who rode beside him there. Was she to have 
The same hot passion which without restraint 
He gave to me, and swore should always be 
My portion? Fierce the thought inflamed my heart 
With jealous rage ! My hot blood upward whirled 
And seethed my brain. I was as one possessed. 
I heard their carriage wheels grind down the sands 
As ruthlessly as Fate o'errides our hopes. 
And as his eyes in wandering o'er the crowd, 
Arrested were, at seeing in its midst 
The one whom years before he had betrayed. 
The startled look and searching gaze he gave 
Were answer to my wrought-up heart. Revenge, 
So long delayed, so fully sought, must fall 
Both sure and soon ; for he would seek me out. 

Good Sister, is it strange that, driven wild 
By slight and insult, I should seek revenge 
As surest mode to stay the raging fires 
That fiercely burned within my aching breast? 

That day I purchased of a hunchbacked Jew, 

With harlot gold (few question whence gold comes), 




' That day I purchased of a hunchbacked Jeiu 
A knife of such tare temper, such rich hill, 
It miglit hai'e hung in sotne old Sultan's belt.'' 



GRACIA. 91 

A knife of such rare temper, such rich hilt, 
It might have hung in some old Sultan's belt; 
And with my name inscribed thereon, I swore 
B}'^ all the pain and sorrow he had caused, 
That I would hide it to the jeweled guard 
In his false heart who ruined me ! And while 
I thus my vengeance vowed, some who were near 
O'erheard my foolish, fierce resolve, and watched 
To see if I my awful oath would keep. 



92 GRACIA. 



XXII 

THAT night I stood within my room alone, 
Before the glass, with all my jewels on, 
In toilette perfect, radiant, complete ; 
And wondered at the face reflected there. 
Grief had not touched nor marred it with a trace ; 
'Twas fair as when he looked upon it first , 
Care had not wrinkled it nor blanched my hair, 
So marvelous is youth and healthful blood. 
But hate and scorn, contempt, and proud disdain 
O'ercast it like a cloud, as when the shade 
Of stone-built wall falls on a lily bed. 
I knew whose hand had drawn that shadow there, 
And thought of him with such fierce, vigorous hate- 
With such hot-whirling- promptings for revenge — 
As might scarce brook restraint. 

The dagger lay 
In easy reach, — its jeweled hilt alive 
With serpent's eyes. I clasped it lovingly; 
I pressed its angry point, 'Twas keen as hate ! 




' Tliat nighl / stood zvilhin my room alone. 
Before the glass, zvith all ?ny jezcels on, 
In toilette perfect, radiant, comflete." 



GRACIA. 93 

Would he were here, I thought. My nerves, steel- 
tense, 
My brain, impassionate and venom-steeped, 
And my hot heart — I turned and looked — when lo ! 
Before me stood my hunter of the hills, 
My demi-god, my lover, and my king! 

Returning late, from ball or banquet-board, 
In passing where I dwelt, he sought me out 

He only said, "Come, Gracia; come to me!" 
Within his eyes the old compelling look. 
And in his voice the old imperious tone ; — 
No change save that his one-time raven locks 
Were flecked with snowy flakes that never melt. 

I thought my love was crushed and dead. I thought 

The vampire, Hate, had robbed my heart of all 

Its youthful tenderness ; it seemed to me 

The hideous thing had drained from life that part 

Which makes existence bearable. Not so. 

I felt a sudden shock. As surging flood, 

The old love, masterful, retook my soul. 

And hate went out as darkness flies from light — 

As mist recedes before the stroke of sun , 

Or as the livid lightning's flash dies down. 

How sweet, when first love reasserts itself! 

The low, sad cry my poor heart uttered then 

Thrilled to the stars, and shook their mystery. 



94 GRACIA. 

The first love of a woman is her best. 

It never wholly dies. She may relove, 

And prove the truest, faithfullest of wives, 

Nor ever cause the heart which trusts in her 

One jealous fear or one distrustful pang: — 

For after-love is wiser, soberer; 

Is led by reason ; guided and restrained 

By selfish interest ; its hasty flame 

By prudence cooled, and quite conventional. 

But oh, the first wild leaping of the heart 

That knows no reason, and that seeks for none ! 

That loves because — because — well, tell me why 

The lilies bloom, birds sing, or roses blow, 

Or why the waters haste to meet the sea. 



GRACIA. 95 



XXIII 

WITH tender grace as native to the man 
As fragrance to the rose, he seated me. 
"Attend, my love, "he said, "nor blame till 
then. 
'Twas heaven, indeed, to share with you that bliss 
Of love amid the sighing, whispering pines. 
But every dream must end — the clear, blue sky 
Must be o'ercast with tempest-driven clouds; — 
So our rose-tinted dream has turned to gray 
And blackening shadow. Sorrow, Gracia, great. 
Increasing sorrow, you have had ; but cold 
Remorse ; consuming, haunting, fell remorse 
Is now my share — is now my recompense. 
Oh, listen, then, and judge what blame is mine, 
And know why I did not return, nor yet 
Respond to your impassioned message sent. 

"My father's partner was a scheming knave, 
And had obtained by villainy and fraud 
Control of all the moneys of the firm. 



96 GRACIA. 

He had one daughter whom his sordid heart 

Loved next to gold. That I should marry her, 

And thus unite the houses into one, 

Was his desire. For this he toiled and planned 

And lied and stole, until he found himself 

Well qualified to force his base demands. 

I left your side in answer to the call 

My father sent to me with urgent haste. 

He was much bowed and broken by the shock, 

Yet told me all, nor sought to screen himself 

For over-faith in one not worthy trust ; 

And then he laid his trembling hands in mine. 

Beseeching me for sonship's sake to save 

His gray hairs from the clutch of poverty. 

And interpose between disgrace and him. 

'Twas love or duty; — which one should I choose? 

For love meant death to him ; and duty, death 

To us! 'Twas hard to take my hand away 

From Love's warm, clinging clasp, and touch the 

palm 
Of Duty, cold and stern. But Duty won ! 
At what a price ! Gods, what a fearful price ! 

"When I averted for my father's sake 
The wreck that threatened him, — albeit I 
Received a death wound in the bitter fight, — 
My thoughts returned to you. How could I best 
Make some amends, and partly counteract 



GRACIA. 97 

The cruel stroke of adverse Fate? Atone, — 
Console and save — this was my eager hope. 

"And so, my love, I searched for you where we 
Had met; sought you amid your Western hills. 
The search was quite as faithful and as vain, 
As that long quest King Arthur made to find 
The golden Holy Grail. From trysting-place 
To trysting-place I wandered, wrapt, enthralled. 
By very contact with the loving past ! 
And as I trod the sacred grounds, you seemed 
In truth — the miracle was memory's own — 
To be a living spirit by my side ! 
Oh, restful, gracious, precious memory ; — 
Joy's crown of joy, remembering happier days! 

"Again I frequented that gladsome spot, — 
The intimate cave, — where we were lost in love ! 
The pulsing sun went down ; the waning moon 
Barred its pale rays behind the branching trees 
That fringed the higher ranges toward the West ; 
The steadfast stars — the sentinels of the night — 
Looked on me from the sky. The past returned : 
I then recalled how oft together we 
Had scaled the sunlit steeps ; how gladly we 
Had fathomed depths of shadowed canyons till. 
Remote from man, we were our natural selves. 
Mad mountain streams made haunting melody; 



98 GRACIA. 

Far-trembling winds, erstwhile a tempest, now 
Grown tame, deep-freighted with sweet fragrance 

from 
The pine trees' balsamed boughs, delayed to lure 
And to intoxicate ; the bright, clear sky 
Gold-filled, immaculate, that arched and reached 
Away into infinity of space, 
Embraced us there upon that lone hill-side, 
And whispered, 'Love, for love is best, — is all!' 
The drowsy colors on the mountain slopes, 
The searching fragrances from woodland nooks, 
Seemed all of purple hue, and violet scent, — 
Sure signs the senses are impassionate ! 
'Twas thus the essences of nature fanned 
The flame that fused our beings into one ! 
Against these intertwined environments 
We could no longer hold our weakened wills ; — 
We loved, for we could do no less ! And such 
A love ! From gentle friendship, satisfied 
With kindly act, and smile, and touch of hands, 
It grew, nay, sprang to passion, uncontrolled 
Unsatisfied unless it ranged unchecked, 
Until the fury of its fervor changed 
To restful indolence — intensity 
Becoming calm tranquillity ! And thus 
We, two, together swayed from bliss to pain ; 
Together sought and found the ecstasy 
Of love's far, utmost madness that uplifts 



GRACIA. 99 

To starry sphere of sweet, ungraspable 

Delights! On our entranced, o'er-sweetened souls 

The sleeping forest cast its mystic spell ! 

Then love's soft ravishments possessed our hearts 

And forced us, trembling, into warm embrace ! 

And so for days such nectarous draughts we drank ! 

A new, exalting glory tinged our sky ! 

And so we loved ; our willing, swooning souls 

Beguiled by Nature's all-approving smiles. 

"But when weird hauntings of my wasted years — 
Of all my blighted after-life — trooped through 
My wrought-up mind as I relived our past, 
Contrition smote my heart till its keen pain 
Forced signs of agony to my cold brow. 
Oh, cruel, poignant, lashing memory, 
Yea, 'Sorrow's crown of sorrow, memory 
Of happier days!' 

"The view-point, therein lies 
The wide and wavering difference ! 

"Sweet love, 
'Twas thus I sought for you where we had met 
But you had fled far from the hills and me!" 

My life's best love awoke once more as strong 
As in the old, dear days. I was re-charmed 



loo GRACIA. 

By tender intonations, earnest ways, 

The subtle witchery of his deep voice, 

And words fraught with apparent truth, so that 

Both trust and credence seemed again restored. 

Yes, sister, let me think of him as he 

Appeared when that strong love-wave swelled about 

My breaking heart : it soothes me now, as then. 

Didst ever look straight at the shining sun, 
And then away? And dost thou not recall 
The dark, black spots which stay before thine eyes 
When thou hast turned? Well, so it was with me. 
He was ray sun, and oh, the spots were big 
And black when I was forced to turn from him ! 
One cannot long look straight upon the sun ! 

With earnest, fervid words once more he spake : 
"Sweet one, you must not, shall not doubt me now. 
What I have said is wholly true. Love guards 
That which it loves. And so would I. But Fate 
Has intervened ! 

"O Fate, thou art my sure 
And stern undoer ! Thou hast strewn my long, 
Drear pathway thick with circumstances dire ! 
And these have blotted out all hope ; have come 
Between fair love and me ; have left my life 
In throes of grief and anguish and remorse. 



GRACIA. 1 

Aye, from Fate's fatal distaff flows a web 
Whose warp of woes and woof of sin enmesh, 
With no escape from its entanglement. 

"The stealthy force of deeply hidden laws 
Delivers strokes so shrewdly sure and swift 
That none can parry them, howe'er they try; 
Yea, lifts or lays its burdens without heed. 
What we call 'circumstance beyond control,' 
Is but a special move, as Fate plays out 
Our game upon the checker-board of life. 
One drop of erring blood determines oft 
Life's greatest issues, as one tiny stone 
Beside its source directs the river's flow; 
An accident may ofttimes interpose 
Between the best of hopes and purposes. 
Within the weakest and the strongest man 
A strange, invincible, unerring force 
O'errules and guides him to his destined place, 
As surely as the ocean wins the stream. 
For who is not a child of Chance? All are 
As autumn leaves — frail playthings of the winds ! 

"Our paths divergent grow; oh, widely so; — 
Nor is there aught we dare assume but this 
I now propose to you : As Lancelot 
And Guinevere indulged delight in famed 
King Arthur's time, as Faust and Marguerite 



I02 GRACIA. 

Sealed soul to soul, let us in secret love ; 

Concealing our relations, boldly launch 

In passion's barque, upon the sea of joy, 

And float, forgetful of our cares, amid 

Fair isles, spice-odorous, whose fragrance turns 

The blood to wine; past coral-strands whose waves, 

As lazily they beat the low-browed shores, 

Sing songs which lull the soul to sleep and dreams. 

On such an ideal island we shall dwell 

In some deep vale, sequestered, girt about 

By tropic trees whose leaf-crowned branches break 

Broad sheets of sunlight into showers that slant 

Athwart wood-glooms with arrow-shafts of light, 

And splash and blotch the ground with russet gold, 

And freshen flowers to lovelier, livelier hues ; — 

Aye, there, where limpid streams o'er crystal beds 

Meander murmurously and slow ; where grows 

The yellow lotus flower, whose broad leaves pave 

The soft, still waters of the sedgy lakes, 

Like fair, white, flower-flecked paths of Paradise ; 

Where climb the jasmine vines, whose pure, rich 

buds 
Exude a fragrant, drowsy spell that drowns 
The senses in intoxicating bliss ; 
Where fringing ferns the cool retreats adorn ; — 
And woods are redolent with harmony 
Divine ; — there we shall find a pleasure-place, 
More fair by far than any famed or sung 



GRACIA. 103 

In India's far clime. There we may lose 
Ourselves in drowsy languishment ; — ^yes, there 
In secret, amorous life, together live. 
With Love our law, and joy our only aim, — 
A flowered summer, our fair heritage!" 

Now oft at night when memory reaches back 

Among the varied epochs of my life. 

His passionate words and fervent plea are cast 

In strong relief, as living picture framed 

By flames of fire ; they burn themselves into 

My soul — a song; a soft sirenic song, 

That haunts and holds my mind, despite my will! 

Where the lotus and jasmine breathe sweets through thy dreams; 

Where voluptuous nature entices and sways thee; 
I will build thee a palace^ where rhythmical streams 

Shall re-echo my heart with "/ love thee; I love thee! " 
Oh come, come with me! 
I will make for my Eve a new Eden once more, 

That shall throb zvith the glow of its passionate hours; 
Where the murmuring sea sings of love to the shore: 

There to live, there to mate like the birds and the flowers! 
Oh come, come with me! 

Where the warm, languid breezes in soft, amorous song 
Woo the mind from all thought save the one of love-living; 



I04 GRACIA. 

Where our hearts and our souls to ourselves shall belong; 
Love forever imtiring — receiving and giving; 
Oh co7ne, come with me! 
Like two glorious rivers that merge into one, 

We shall live, and tell ever love's beautiful story; 
Like two birds that are lost in the light of the sun. 

We shall lose ourselves, dear, in love's sweetness and glory! 
Oh come, come with me! 

Let us drink to repletion, my sweet, for all time. 

Of delight and wild joy and hot passion' s endeavor; 
It shall be my sole duty thy beauties sublime 

To admire and adore for their royal, rare splendor; 
Oil come, come with me! 
We shall clasp, oh so close that our forms shall entwine 

In a rapturous embrace that is trance-like, — delirious; 
Thy lithe limbs, snowy breasts, ardent lips fierce as wine. 

Fill my mind with a madness, intejtse and mysterious! 
Oh come, come with me! 

There is naught in mad Hell nor sweet Heaven akin 
To the rapture aroused by thy ravishing kisses ; 

To the warmth and the glotv of thy soft, satin skin; 

To the thrill of thy form, charged with love's eager blisses; — 
Oh come, come with me! 

Oh, a wonderful song such a siueet life shall be, dear. 
With the music of spheres in full unison rolling; 



GRACIA. 105 

Aye, a song of ricJi gladness^ sung free and so clear 
Nor Eternity s anthems zuere half so consoling! 
Oh co7ne, come with me! 



io6 GRACIA. 



XXIV 

HIS sense-absorbing words were soft and warm, 
And armed with sweet, persuasive lure. He 
ceased 
To speak. A thrilling, secret joy my heart 
Possessed ; a soothing, sweet entanglement 
Enwrapped my dizzied brain ! Amazed and awed, 
In wavering hesitancy, for a time 
I stood. His swift, voluptuous, mastering words, 
Like some great passion-torrent, almost swept 
Away my strong resolve. But soon the strange, 
Strong meaning of his ardent speech burst full 
Upon my startled and bewildered mind! 
How vividly his base, seductive words 
Contrasted with that other's plea, whose balm 
Was home and heaven; whose sacrifice was self! 

As clear as sudden, now, I saw my way! 

Not fiercer o'er the sun-scorched plain, speeds, wild 

And uncontrolled, the sweeping prairie fire. 

As skyward leap its livid tongues of flame, 

And backward flows its blackened path of gloom, — 

Than now arose within me at his words, 



GRACIA. 107 

The danger-demon, Anger. Nothing could 
Assuage the storm that beat my breast to wrath. 
In name of love, had he not offered vice? 
The thought but added fuel to my hate ; 
Intensified my will. Enraged, I thus 
Made answer: — 



"Shame upon your perjured soul! 
Aye, shame! 



"You were my God! I worshipped you 
As angels do their great Creator ! Yet 
You blighted my young life like stifling breath 
Of simoom's blast ! But for deceit, I might 
Be happy as the happiest in all 
Our land. Had you been true and manly as 
Those Knights in days of chivalry, — days when 
Men held a woman's honor sacred, — I 
Might yet be worthy confidence and love. 

"Nay, love from love accepts naught that is base; 
Nor can love give love aught but what is pure. 

"Once I was crowned with pristine purity — 
As virtuous as Vestal maid ; — but now 
The scarlet letter burns upon my breast ; 
My name is stricken from fair honor's roll; 
My simple faith in holy things is gone; 



io8 GRACIA. 

My lofty purpose and resolves are lost ; 
My soul's sweet sentiment — love's hung-ering- — 
Is dead ; my love-life has been strangled, killed ! 
There is no crime like murder of a soul ! 

"My hopes, the last sustaining rays, are wavering; 
They flit like will-o'-wisps athwart the night; 
They fade like glowworms on the breaking crest. 
My world is empty and unpromising ; 
For now the sun and song of life are gone ! 
And you, you wrought the awful, total change 
That plunged me deep into this gulf of doom! 

"You bade me trust you unto death. Alas! 

Thus trusting, through that very trust, I fell ; 

I fell to earth weak, quivering, alone ! 

And here I lie like drift-wood on the stream. 

You held out roses for my taking then, — 

Nor did I realize the thorns they hid. 

Until I clasped and pressed them to my heart ! 

I cast my soul down at your feet ; too late ! 

How slight the love for which I wrecked 

My life ; how bleak the burdened earth for which 

I bartered heaven's glad domain! But Hope 

Sows much that Love can never reap. Oh, would 

That one might love or not at his own will! 

With such controlling power, all pain would be 

Eliminated, and fair Love with his 



GRACIA. 109 

Attendant joys and pleasures, high enthroned. 
I knew not then your fascinating speech 
Was soft-spun flattery, designed to hold 
My Confidence a captive bound, the while 
Its further use, stiletto-like, wrought death, 
Both swift and sure, to Virtue's sacred life! 
Your kisses poisoned, and your words betrayed ! 

"You let me bear and bury our poor babe 

Alone ! You were not there to give it glad 

And loving greeting when it came ; not there 

To drop a tear upon its lonely grave, 

Although I longed for your companionship, 

And hoped from you the promised name of wife, — 

For your full love and firm fidelity. 

All through my grief, reproach, abandonment, 

And dreadful, deathlike life, you were as cold 

And cruel as the hand of Fate itself, — 

As stolid as bronzed image of Distress! 

You left me with my grief and pain, which tore 

My heart from home and hope, and left me reft 

Of all save keenest pangs of dire remorse. 

Nay ; when I prayed for strength your love could 

give, 
You answered me with silence. Oh, what turned 
Your loving heart to stone? What changed that 

love 
You swore exceeded love of life? Great God! 



no GRACIA. 

How could such love desert its idol thus? 

The feeble lamb may bleat its way to heart 

Of hardened herdsman out upon the vast 

And rolling- graze-lands of my wild, wide West; 

But my sad, plaintive cry died on the air; 

You triumphed; — strangled, stifled both our souls! 

And spurned me then, as though I were a dull 

And trodden clod ! Such pitiless disdain ! 

Oh, must my hungering heart regret alway? 

"Why tell you now how I have lived; of how 

In shame with shame I deeper sank ; of how 

I starved in garrets cold, in basements damp ; 

Of how they scorned and shunned me everywhere 

Save in this gilded home of infamy? 

Such life doth maim for vast eternity ; 

Such life were worse than nightmare of foul hell ! 

"You have been held in greater consequence, 
As though I sinned alone ! Shame on the false 
And coward fear that forced you from my side, 
And fixed the blame upon the frailer one ! 
Should you not expiate your wrong in woe 
As I? Should my poor, hounded soul be scourged 
Alone? A curse upon the Fates that kept 
You from restoring me to that pure life. 
When life was love, and love a dream divine ! 



GRACIA. Ill 

'"Why should you strive to show an innocence 
Beyond belief? Why should you make me now 
This vicious, base proposal? Oh, why do 
You substitute for virtue, vice, — and seek 
To cheat our consciences and all the world, 
And plunge in dizzied recklessness? I hate 
You for your cold hypocrisy ! Attempt 
To comprehend this hidden, baleful thing — 
A fallen woman's woe, — and you will learn 
How great the crime committed in love's name ; 
How great your sin of blasting perfidy ! 

"You cast me out — alone! My father cast 

Me out — alone! Society, the church, — 

They cast me out — alone ! And now, behold ! 

I'm what you all would have me — deep in guilt. 

And bold in shame ! Mayhap you wove a web 

Of sin from tangled threads of innocence ! 

Mayhap I'm what you made me by neglect! 

Oh, why, why should my lover and my sire, 

The very ones I loved the most and best, 

The very ones who should have shielded, saved, — 

Denounce me now, and plunge my trembling soul 

Into perdition's fathomless abyss? 

Why should the Christian be the stumbling-stone 

Of Virtue and of Faith? 

"Until pure love 
And true religion exercise their strength 



112 GRACIA. 

By saving grace, these two great principles 

Are nothing more than elements of Fate — 

A blindfold Fate, — that deals with mirth or moan 

In most haphazard form. When good defends 

A wrong, then good is wrong, but more to blame. 

"O perjured soul, why didst thou break thy vow?" 



GRACIA. 113 



XXV 

HIS deep distress proved how my words had hurt. 
My heart now changed. As fiercest fire full 
soon 
Consumes its substance wholly, so my quick, 
Hot passion swiftly spent itself in its 
Own deep intensity. Again I felt 
I could forgive him all. Uncertain there 
Before him now I stood; — my heart, unchecked; 
My soul, confusion — wild. 

Then low he spake : — 
"No more, I pray! Your words, each one a tongue 
Of livid, licking flame, have burned my poor 
And sorrowed heart to ashes, gray and dead ! 
I swear 'twas not in malice that I struck 
You down. But there you've lain where low you 

fell 
With head beneath the shelterless, cold wing 
Of night! O God! My punishment must be 
Damnation for thus blasting your young life! 



114 GRACIA. 

"But know 'twas not from malice or design; — 
'Twas Love, a thing unkind, persuaded me. 

"My all of life a failure seems and vain. 

Deep have I studied, but, alas! what have 

I learned? And high as heaven have I aspired, — 

To what attained? Have loved, — but what the end. 

Save hopeless chaos? Disillusioned now 

Am I, and great is my disquietude. 

The heights of heavenly bliss, I now believe. 

Can never equal pleasures of the hills, 

Where we were free to roam and love at will ; — 

And hell itself can never hold such pain. 

As when those whom I love believe me pure 

And worthy trust, the while I live a lie ! 

"Life crowds most bitter things upon us all; 

And true, though sad, the hope that binds each one 

To right is frail as filament of floss. 

"Oh, that I had been true to you, and thus 
Had saved our lives from this exhaustive blight ! 
In place of this sad wreck, we might have spent 
Our years in deep devotedness of love, 
And thus have rounded out our attributes 
For peace and joy and noble usefulness! 
Together striving, miracles we might 
Have wrought: we might have healed the broken 
heart ; 



GRACIA. IIS 

Aroused dead love in man for man; suppressed 

The sweep of stalking grief ; stilled strife to calm 

Repose ; and pierced with light life's night of gloom ! 

Such deeds had dignified, aye, glorified ! 

Had Fate not foiled our fair lives' unity, 

The score completed, would have swelled a song ! 

"Why should I murmur or complain? What hap 
If be these years misspent? For one sweet year 
Were you not mine, all mine, and all to me? 
In that there's recompense enough; all else 
May be of blackest sin, but cannot blot 
The memory of that Eden, long ago ! 

"Thy name, sweet one, hath been a mystic spell 
That bound me to that simple, sacred Past ! 
Long, weary years I've wept for you; but, oh, 
Why do I find you here? I would have found 
Your grave among the hills with far less grief. 
And you, the mother of a babe — my babe — 
Our child ! Would God we, too, were sleeping in 
That sylvan grot — gate to both heaven and hell ; — 
Were buried with our babe in endless rest. 
Our triune souls one in Oblivion, 
Or all before our God for judgment just. 

"What cursed Fate has led you thus upon 
Dark ruin's further track? What — yet I would 



ii6 GRACIA. 

Not ask. O Gracia, lost to me for aye, 

I found you in yon distant, peaceful home, 

An angel fresh from Paradise; I find 

You in this den of vice, an angel still — 

But joined to hell — polluted, poisoned, foul ; 

A rose no longer regal in the sun. 

But draggled with the soil and slime of sin. 

The thought of this, — this dreadful, dead-black 

crime — 
Puts out the radiant light of love's fair face. 
And hangs the veil of shame and pity there. 
My soul abhors but never can forget. 
And yet my heart still clings to memories 
Of other days; — to what you used to be 
When you were free from scarlet-dye of shame: 
E'en now I would you were my fancy's queen. 
I love this mockery of her I wooed! 
But, oh, 'tis madness when I love yet loathe ; 
'Tis awful when what should can never be; 
When what we wish most wars with what we have ! 

"Now, Gracia, fair, — though fallen deep in sin, — 
Farewell. For love and loss of you, I die, — 
For love and loss of you, and from remorse 
Of my false life. For it was false to you ; 
'Twas false unto my wife, and to my child; 
To my best fortune and my manhood, false ! 
'Tis such self-loathing prompts one to destroy 



GRACIA. 117 

The thread of his existence, and to leave 

A world where pain and tears predominate." 

He rose and paced the floor with nervous tread, — 
With such a look of anguish and despair 
As makes the gazer turn away in fear. 
His visage, with its weird and livid lines, 
Seemed like a vision of some tortured soul 
Which, racked by accusation and remorse 
And uncontrolled emotions, had gone mad. 

Alarmed at his strange state of mind, and awed 

At sight of passions that would chase athwart 

His face, I strove to stay the storm I felt 

Must break. But naught that I could say assuaged. 

With all the mists now rolled away, I saw 

The father of my child, — the Hero-King 

Of my heart's mystery, — in agony 

Of mind ; his soul with conscience warring, fierce. 

Now, sister, I must tell you that which proved 
My greatest woe. Oh, how can I proceed? 

A certain softening charm to change his mood, 

I then remembered that I still possessed! 

It was a tiny, silken strand of hair. 

Much like his own, which I had saved that night 

From out the grave-dust of that hidden cave. 



ii8 GRACIA. 

I went to bring it, and, returning, saw — 
Oh, horror, horror! On the couch he lay 
With eyes wild- wide, with pallid, frightful face! 
Above his heart gleamed bright my dagger's hilt, 
Reflected redly in the bloody stream. 

Whilst I was absent for our baby's tress, 
Possessed of talismanic power, this man. 
Whose anguished mind was wrought beyond control, 
With fearful force and steady, wondrous nerve, 
Had driven deep, and swiftly sure, the keen 
And savage blade into his tortured heart. 
And by the self-inflicted wound set free 
Contending fears, and severed soul from clay! 

How can I tell you more? That chilling sound 
The icy slide of steel gave forth, as swift 
The knife pierced breast and heart of him I loved, 
Congealed my blood, and chilled my very soul. 
Fear, pallid fear fell on me then, 

O God, 
What ghastly, freezing fear! 'Twas full of cold 
And frightful fascinations. 

Paralyzed 
And terror-stricken at the dreadful sight, 
I could not speak nor stir! My senses throbbed! 



GRACIA. 119 

The room grew dark! I was both stunned and 

crushed ! 
My piercing shriek of horror woke the house ! 
The gathering inmates, pitying, beheld 
His tragic death and my spent agony. 
Then from the strain so fierce and great, my 

strength, — 
Long sorely tried, — deserted me, and left 
Me lying near the form of him I loved, 
In blest unconsciousness ! 



GRACIA. 



XXVI 

When I awoke, 
'Twas in anew, strange place. The whitened walls ; 
The dreary line of beds ; the stagnant air 
Impregnate and malodorous with scent 
Of antiseptic drugs; white-hooded forms, 
As sunlight, silent, gliding here and there; 
My own dull sense and utter helplessness, 
Apprised me of my sad environments. 
Another yet was there whose youthful dreams 
Lay shattered in my fall — that noble soul. 
Who, years before, had been my truest friend 
When all the world disowned, abandoned me ; — 
Who knew no thought save never-ceasing love 
For me ; — he, kneeling, bade me hope, and yield 
Him yet but chance to prove that love which brought 
Him there to seek me, — boon I could not grant. 
What reasoning can justify the fact, 
That those we illy treat are, ofttimes, they 
Who lend devotion ; whilst those whom we help 
The most, are most devoid of gratitude? 
Or who explain why what we have or may 



GRACIA. 121 

Attain, is held in sad indifference? 

'Twas then they told me I was held by law, 

And charged with murder, wilful and designed; 

With all the weight of that rash vow I made, — 

O'erhanging, like the sword of Damocles, 

And ready with the slightest breath to break 

The thread-like strand of hope by which it swung, — 

Conviction surely waited health's return. 

Bear with me, holy sister, yet a few 

Short moments; soon my piteous tale shall cease. 

Alas! What now remained to tell, or fear? 

They might as well have talked to senseless stone. 

The idle waves that beat about the base 

Of rugged cliffs are not more impotent 

Than grief and loss had then become to me. 

No love, no hate, no hope, no fear, no woe 

Could touch or thrill my broken heart again. 

Fate, like a rage-blind savage beast, might yet 

Inflict her blows, — she could not wound me more; 

Not more indifference and apathy 

The Sphinx's face still wears on Libyan sands 

Than then I felt for all the Future's plans; 

My feelings and my faculties were void : — 

All dormant, or all dead. Have you not seen 

The ocean's tide fling slimy monsters high 

Upon the sun-bleached sands to die, dissolve. 

And vanish? Time, my strong, swift ocean-tide, 



122 GRACIA. 

Had toyed with my lost heart — for years I grasped 
At straw and floating wrack — but now that fierce 
White light, experience, reveals that sad 
And sickening thing — a soul, self -damned — flung far 
By wind and wave upon the shore of life, 
Without a hope; — atonement e'en denied! 

The trial came, much like the one once held 
In Pilate's Hall of Judgment. None appeared 
To testify for me. The evidence 
Against me was quite flawless and complete. 
None knew my innocence except myself, 
And he who slept, my dagger in his heart, 
And that All-seeing One, Who holds the world 
Within the hollow of His hand; Who molds 
Our lives from out the clay of circumstance. 

The trial-time drew near. — "Guilty as charged," 
The jury found. — "For life," the Judge decreed. 
This was the end. 



With such dull mockery 
And farce of justice did the court adjourn. 
They lodged me in this cell, — my living tomb; 
Aye, this the fatal, dread finality! 

Hereafter must I walk my bounds — these dull 
And narrow bounds — as tiger does its cage. 



GRACIA. 123 

Let none accuse save those who war have waged 
With dumb despair ; whose lives prove life is vain. 



This tale is finished, — my sad story told. 

The barque which sailed away upon Life's sea 

Is drifting helplessly along the sands 

Of time. And yet, far in the distance, gleams 

The harbor lights of heaven, and I see 

Him standing with my baby in his arms, 

His face aglow with that old love-light still. 

And borne across the waters by the gale 

I hear his voice repeating, ' ' Gracia, come ; 

Come home and rest in peace forever more. ' ' 

I beg of you say not that I bemoan 

My fate ; for now the wish he voiced, that we 

May rest in peace, soon will be gratified; 

And in that other world where human woes 

And human frailties are unknown, we'll meet — 

My love, my babe, and I : — and God, mayhap, 

Will pardon, as the world has never done — 

Or else oblivion will end my woe. 

Yet tell my tale to others, — they may heed. 

And guide their barques away from rocks and shoals ; 

And thus this bitter wail from heart, distressed, 

May, quivering ages through, arrest, or ward 

The awful, fatal consequence of sin, 



124 GRACIA. 

And save despairing souls from that dread thing,- 
A sorrow, — universal, pitiless! 



Ye cold, grim prison walls, bedewed with tears, 

And charged with echoes of old convicts' groans, 

And ghastly with the spectres of old crimes, — 

More hideous than a madman's dream of fear, — 

Take me, and close me round until I die. 

Here must I wait in hateful solitude, 

Nor ever see the sun, or feel the breeze. 

Or smell the winning odors of the flowers, 

Or listen to the music of the birds. 

Or hear again the happy children laugh — 

Yet forced to live life's dreadful tragedy, 

Till my slow sorrow loosens all the ties, 

And liberates, despite of bolts and bars, 

Misfortune's child, whom all the world disowns! 



Life doth not compensate its loss and pain ; — 

Its blessings few ; its crosses many, great. 

I am a wreck dropped by the ebbing tide ; 

A broken lily, drooping on the stem ; — 

Let Death now seal Life's hungry lips with rest. 

Farewell, my graves ; shadow and sun, farewell ! 




' )V cold, grhn prison zualls, bedezued luith tears, 
Take me and close me round tintil I die. ' ' 



2 1900 



